Me, the Verb
A verb, from the Latin verbum meaning "word" is a part of speech that in syntax conveys an action (bring, read, walk, run, learn) an occurrence (happen, become) or a state of being (be, exist, stand.)
I'm a verb. An action verb. Yes, I realize I'm a person and that's technically a noun, but I've always felt more like a verb.
I wrote a post about cliff diving recently. And it was about the jump. The recognition of arrival to something you've been moving towards, and the awareness that no resistance remains. All that is left is the leap. And I love that part. I fucking love the jump.
I live for the chances to jump. I jump forward, jump full-on, both feet ahead. And sailing into the unknown, I've never really been scared of anything - not the fall, not the dark, not what happens when the fall is over. I've just figured it out. And I've taken pride in that ability. And I believe in it... in what brings me to the edge time and time again. I believe in me... that I'm right where I am supposed to be and I'll do what I need to do. And it's never reckless, it's deliberate in it's execution.
And when I don't jump, I run (or push or pull - I'm good at those too). When there is no jump to be had, then I just haul ass. The choice to retreat or surge forward. The decision to turn around or choose something else and get myself there. But it's my choice. When the intuition is overcome by something stronger - logic, reason, circumstance, or fear I respond with movement. I need to move. I'm a verb.
But unexpectedly, I'm in a new place. I'm on a cliff that isn't just mine. And it's this place where I can't jump and I can't run. It's not time to move and it's worse than being paralyzed. So on this big beautiful cliff, I sit still. And that restraint, that waiting, that self-control, and discipline of inaction... it's almost painful it it's inertia, but I've never shied away from pain either. So, I'll hold my position. I'll stop moving and get comfortable perched on the edge.
I'm just taking on a new verb form...a state of being, my state of being for a while.
I'm a verb. An action verb. Yes, I realize I'm a person and that's technically a noun, but I've always felt more like a verb.
I wrote a post about cliff diving recently. And it was about the jump. The recognition of arrival to something you've been moving towards, and the awareness that no resistance remains. All that is left is the leap. And I love that part. I fucking love the jump.
I live for the chances to jump. I jump forward, jump full-on, both feet ahead. And sailing into the unknown, I've never really been scared of anything - not the fall, not the dark, not what happens when the fall is over. I've just figured it out. And I've taken pride in that ability. And I believe in it... in what brings me to the edge time and time again. I believe in me... that I'm right where I am supposed to be and I'll do what I need to do. And it's never reckless, it's deliberate in it's execution.
And when I don't jump, I run (or push or pull - I'm good at those too). When there is no jump to be had, then I just haul ass. The choice to retreat or surge forward. The decision to turn around or choose something else and get myself there. But it's my choice. When the intuition is overcome by something stronger - logic, reason, circumstance, or fear I respond with movement. I need to move. I'm a verb.
But unexpectedly, I'm in a new place. I'm on a cliff that isn't just mine. And it's this place where I can't jump and I can't run. It's not time to move and it's worse than being paralyzed. So on this big beautiful cliff, I sit still. And that restraint, that waiting, that self-control, and discipline of inaction... it's almost painful it it's inertia, but I've never shied away from pain either. So, I'll hold my position. I'll stop moving and get comfortable perched on the edge.
I'm just taking on a new verb form...a state of being, my state of being for a while.
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