That which moves us

Isn’t it weird how sometimes we see or hear something and think to ourselves, “Oh! There you are, I’ve been looking for you my whole life!”?

It happens to me much more often than I would have expected. Generally, it happens when I’m listening to music. The last time it happened was when I listened to “Bukowski” by Moose Blood (take a listen HERE) a few weeks ago. It’s simple, but the words caught me and I couldn’t breathe for a second.

Sometimes it happens when I see a film for the first time. The Secret Life of Walter Mitty did it to me on a blustery September night this year. Maybe it was because Ben Stiller wasn’t funny in it, or maybe because it settled itself inside of my chest and refused to leave for weeks.

Books. It’s always books. It’s almost like I have no choice but to be moved by the thin pages that I choose to turn over. I think there have only been 5 stories in my entire life that didn’t move me in some way. And that’s saying something, because I read children’s books on the regular (don’t ask. Or do. Your choice.). I have live a thousand lives through the pages that someone else has laid out for me, and I plan to live a thousand more.

And every great once in a while, it’s a person. Sometimes they just pass by, while others come in and drop their anchor, eager to explore every single part of you. I’m constantly being moved and inspired by these people, regardless of the time they allow me or I’ve given to them. It’s cliche, but I wouldn’t be the person I am without the people in my life.

Some say that it’s a character flaw of mine that I allow things to move me, positively and negatively, so easily. But I want to love and experience and feel everything that I can in the short time that I’ve been given for my life. I’m always learning, always collecting thoughts and emotions, and if that’s a character defect, then I don’t want to know what it’s like to be without flaws. x

Until tomorrow,

cheers.

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