The tempest of my thoughts, contained in a simple page.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Metaphors

Life is a lot like being on a swingset. 

Whenever you want it to be quiet, there's this irritating squeaking sound, and you have to block out all the meaningless noise if you want any peace and focus.

And when you find a really good rhythm, you can ignore the fact that your fingers are sore from holding on because it feels good to be up high and moving fast. You can look up and see clouds and even pretend the ground has dropped from beneath you and you're up on this celestial swingset in the sky, if you can manage to ignore the tree branches on the edges of your vision that remind you that you're still on the ground.

It takes time to get really high up, though. And you have to be consistent in your rhythm to get there.

And while sometimes the weightlessness and wind on your face can make you feel like you're flying, sooner or later you have to let go and be faced with the reality of gravity and feet full of splinters from the wood chips.

That moment is inevitable.

But even though you'll walk home with splintery toes and sore fingers and aching calves, you remember what it was like to feel like you were flying.

And it's kinda worth it.

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