Thin Lines

He asked me the other day why I wasn’t writing anymore. I said I don’t have time for it. He said no, you’re happy that’s why. I was challenged with the direct, right in my face answer. Actually I felt it more on my forehead, like a small rubber band. Bang! Hurtful.  Was that true? Do I only run to words when I have misery? Yes, misery likes company, but do I as well? And what’s the level of that pain and the sorrow that makes me pick up a pen or open up a fresh page on Word? Is my safety place in between my fingers, hidden behind the letters?

It’s a thin line. A thin, skinny line. I think I write, I am able to write as long as I walk on that line. When I get to have a view of the both sides, feel the fears and the joys of the two, when I struggle to keep the balance. I question the two edges, I trip over, stand up again on the line and keep moving. But when I fall into  in one of the lopes and I get captured, the words get stuck between my throat and lungs; and my hands, my brain and my heart can’t get connected. Even if any of these two creates a way to find each other, because they betray the third one, they don’t function as much and well as they do. Until I jump back on the line, I wait, watch and listen. I feel. I feel deeper. Then when I find myself back on it, I start walking as a new me, an evolved me; with all the things, all the feelings, all the new tastes I learned while in the lope, I recreate the path.

Life is about thin lines. Reality is on those lines.  Magic is on those lines. Dreams, pains, laughs, dissappointment and pleasure are on them. Love is on them. It’s a thin line between sun and rain, where in between rainbow appears. A thin line between black and white, where all the grays happen, perception and vision mature. Bitterness and sweetness has a thin line,  transition stands strong and powerfull on it, you know what change is, how change takes place. Love and hate’s thin line makes you feel every inch of your body, every cell and every unexpected unknown unnamed feeling you never had any idea that they even existed. Between hot and cold, you learn about danger. In a sentence’s words, you see how a misunderstanding can hurt anyone. Religion and faith, spirituality are on that thin line among a Christmas Carol and a posture you stay in Yoga. It’s a thin line between leaving and staying, for understanding, for courage, for responsibility and patience. Another thin line between a bar of orange and almond dark chocolate Lindt bar, and a fresh organic red apple, where you learn about determination, promises and willpower. Freedome stands firm and still on one of those lines, back and forth along the feel of a free fall and hitting the ground hard. A child sits on it, trying to grow up and trying to stay naive, creative and fearless inside you.

Life is a thin line itself.

Without any rules.

Unexpected. Thrilling. Even threatening.

Just a thin skinny line.