una paura.

I stepped outside. It was cold, dark, and I was alone. The chills of the fall morning could be felt in every sense of my body. I could smell the dew upon the grass. The bite of the winter air left my mouth dry and crisp, with very little taste. As I took a step further I could see the fog rising around as the ground tried to keep itself warm against the piercing air. I could hear nothing. It was quiet and almost as if every animal knew it’s place at this hour, and it’s place did not encompass being outside. It involved being warm, curled up and relaxed on a horizontal plane, as sleep is more inviting in hours such as these.

But here I am, 5am, starting my day, alone. What will I do today? Will I finish the project I had set out on a few days before? Will I finish a good book? Will I run for a few hours? Will today be the day that I try to escape this loneliness?

I can’t remember the last time I didn’t feel alone. But I was not by any means feeling remorse or regret, especially towards others. I had brought myself here. I had saturated the idea of being a perfectionist to the degree that it scared the people around me. I had literally run away from the idea that I needed to lead a normal life. It’s not socially acceptable to enjoy the things that I enjoyed. It’s frowned upon that sleep is not of the essence for me. My life, from an outsider, is futile.

But it’s these very ideas that keep me going each day. The independence that reaps from being mentally sound, physically fit, emotionally stable makes me feel as if I have some sort of control. That this world cannot mold me into an individual I don’t want to be. But I am determined, to find that place where I can be free.

As I walk further out into the green abyss the void from the atmosphere soaks through my skin. There is still something missing. Amongst this private and self-sufficient life I own so clearly, I sometimes long for an individual. I wait for the morning to come and to see another person out pondering their thoughts because the dormant state of sleep cannot satisfy the dreams that pulse during their waking hours. Someone who feels that time is like a python, waiting to crush the diaphragm of anyone who comes in its path that day.

Time doesn’t see our skin color, or weight, or salary, or faith. It doesn’t discriminate. It slithers around in the lives of every being and steals it away from all who fail to embrace it’s presence. It leaves us when we aren’t paying attention. It takes things from us when it feels we have neglected their presence. It pushes us to do things we otherwise may not do. It’s a factor that molds the human race. It’s a ticker.

I realize that my thoughts have brought me to an open field. As I sit down I realize that it is already 5:30am. There it goes again, another 30 minutes of life, stolen. But I can’t help but feel that I’ve captured it. In these early 30 minutes I saw the deer awaken, the sun peak out, the dry smell moistened, and I could feel the temperature rising to bring yet another day. I have seen nature doing its job again, but today it felt different. Today I see that nature is independent, but reliant. It relies on the things around it, to help it do its independent job. And it never fails, the sun still rises, the air still shifts, time still passes. And nature is content. Even amongst the storms and challenges that comes with a shifting breeze.

And hidden amid it all is a superior being. Watching from a place unbeknownst to the things that inhabit this planet. And as I try to grasp the limits of time, I realize that He is in control, even when I think I’m steering. He is watching me in this early hour, even when it feels the rest of the world is still asleep. He is accepting every over-analytical thought that races through my brain and he is waiting with a warm embrace. It’s as if he is sitting just on the other side of that field, waiting with a smile as he sees me jogging towards him. And then I look down. I see on my watch that it’s now 5:45 and time to head back. And it’s as if God breathes a sigh of disappointment because I had come so close again, and turned back to the world.

Governed. Owned. Fighting for independence from a dependent thing. It’s as if I’d stepped within arms reach of the Almighty One and realized that I couldn’t get that close yet. That it was time to start heading back to the consumption of my more ‘acceptable’ life. And He still waits. On the other side of that field, to rescue me from this loneliness, to give me my independence, to sing with me a song that paves a future where time doesn’t dictate, but quality does. The benefits are not monetary, nor does the reward come with a trophy or a trip around the world. It is beyond something that our brains can imagine.

Tomorrow I’ll run all the way there. I won’t look at my watch and turn back because I have a plane to catch. I’ll keep running until I feel His embrace.

But He is begging me to run there today.