Higher
A poem of relentles thoughts
I’m sitting in a cozy, coffee shop around the corner from my apartment.
I am sipping on a latte, out of one of those big mugs like you would see on an episode of Friends.
“Mugs so big you may as well put nipples on them,” a character from the show once said.
I am getting jittery.
Unnecessary that I bought the large, I say to myself.
I just finished editing an Instagram reel, TikTok, and posted a few stories.
It’s important I stay engaged, always look busy, I say to myself with a slight, internal eyeroll.
The endless pursuit of striving—higher, higher, higher.
And yet I remind myself I know how to slow down, I had just attended an hour and a half of restorative yoga, so obviously I exemplify, “balanced bitch.”
So where is this uneasiness coming from?
There I was, jittery from a double espresso that I knew was going to spiral me, leaning back in my chair, dry in the mouth, staring forward, blankly.
Words floated across my dark cornea: whyyy, whooo, whereee. Adverbs, we learned in school to blueprint a short story that I now, was trying to apply to the story of my own life.
And then, a level of panic. Everything became loud. Cars whizzed by on the busy two-way street.
Parting in two directions directly in front of me, one goes north, the other goes south, polarity, distance growing between where they intersected, directly imitating the emotions weighing heavy on my heart pulling me in multiple directions.
Noises surround me, buildings engulf me, new faces everywhere I look. I am surrounded, but very aware of my solitude.
What does it mean to surrender?
I instruct my body to take a deep breath and the sound manages to crowd out those of a busy evening during rush hour in downtown Miami.
I search for meaning in the bush directly in front of me; lately, my deep contemplations have landed me on various tangibles in my environment, like I imagine Plato or Aristotle once did (probably more poetically than staring at a bush.)
But there I was nonetheless, in deep observation of the different shades of green, and wondering whether the half of the bush in the shadows, feels envy towards the other half that’s receiving the sun.
The Sun eventually touches the entire plant, I thought.
Without the occasional shade, the plant will burn.
I had my laptop open for a while, staring un-inspired at the blank screen. I shut it intentionally and pulled my headphones out of my ears.
Suddenly, I began hearing a familiar song, although I don’t know where I heard it before, or when.
Lyrics spilled into my overly conscious mind:
“World (Oh world) keep on turning
Cause it won’t be too long
Prayers, keep on
Prayin’
And keep, keep on
Believing
…
Gonna keep on tryin’
Till I reach the higher ground.” - Stevie Wonder
My personal search for purpose, for meaning in the shadows, and grace in the Sun, is an internal battle I often face. Forgetting often the simplicity of a spinning Earth, with my feet firmly planted upon it.
In chasing extravagance, I settle in my humility.
A life of hugs from loved ones, smiles from strangers, now friends, that light up the room with their undeniable force, a life of generosity, remembering and healing, uncomfortable growth, strong latte’s and bristling bushes.
That should be enough for me here on Earth, until I reach higher ground.