it is once again march and for the second year in a row my ability to ski has been limited. though I am happy in life, I'm left wanting. an empty feeling, a void created by an unhealed lose continues to haunt me. I hang a large and mostly false smile on my face. eyes, beautiful blue eyes still hold my imagination. I need only close mine to see those now distant blue eyes still looking at me. it is but a reflection they see, I see, we all see; a matter of perspective I guess.
running my hand through my hair I examine this vision of self more closely. moving my mouth, squinting my eyes, turning my head I study how I move, how it feels to move, what it looks like for that body before me to be moved. sitting here does nothing for me, not like this. I'm stagnant, wounded, out of touch, so I growl at the fool in the mirror. he is not me. he is just an image, a vision of what I choose not to be. I remind myself I can choose how I see myself. holding true to my vision can then help other see that me as well. it's time to get back to work. standing I walk to the next room admiring the grace I catch in the mirror of this new motion.
take another look at me now eyes, see what you are missing