Some Elated Musings On Freedom

I could spend this beautiful morning talking about how gorgeous the men are on the eastern slope of the Colorado Rockies. I could talk about how the term Menver holds within it a universal truth; namely that there are tons of men here, and that they are all amazing, high caliber human beings. I could take the time sitting in the sunshine, in a corner of a small coffee shop, on the corner of 13th St and College avenue, in Boulder to talk exitedly about the lovely men and women wandering through the door, and how alternative, healthy and outdoorsy everyone here is. I could talk about how endearing they are with their careers in education, public administration, and non-profit stuff.

I could take a moment to talk about how suprisingly effective online dating is, and how it makes it easier to connect with like-minded people when you're in a new place. I could talk about great places to meet outdoorsy men and women. 

But I won't talk about any of those things this morning. I'd rather this post be like a haiku on the face of this public journaling endeavour. I want to be able to read it, and feel the soft flow of constant energy, that can become stagnant when you're in a monogomous relationship. I want to remember that that's exactly what I'm feeling right now. I want to remember this golden moment of freedom, possibility and existence that all blend together and form this constant desire to make eye contact, to connect and to explore. I'd rather talk about the openness that being alone for some time has finally created. 

I could easily have talked about all of those things at the beginning of this post at length, but I'm more interested in the fact that in the past five days, I've become open to experiencing those things. I spent the past 8 months healing and noticing the patterns of being single, but I've never been able to fully dive into what it means experientially. What I've learned is that being single is a great opportunity to create your own existence, to develop real independence and to be able to share that created existence and independent spirit with others. It doesn't have to be a struggle that creates desire. It can be an opening that allows desire to flow in and out. 

Sometimes, I hold my breath. I wait for the other shoe to drop. I try to analyze the information. I begin to disect it, and reduce it into digestible chunks to make it easier to swallow for my readers, and for myself. But when I try to deduce everything into simple tips, tricks, rants and raves, I miss out on the lessons, the big picture. I don't think that does my readers any justice. I don't believe I do myself a service by doing so. It doesn't feel like my truth. So perhaps I'll talk about those things some other day. But I won't be talking about them on this beautiful morning in the sunny corner of this coffee shop in Boulder, where I sit by myself, making eyes at everyone who walks in the door, completely alone, but never lonely.