I can be who I am not. I can shed all
that I am and retreat to a place where I can be bothered by none.
Here, with the mildewy leaves as my floor and the budding trees as my
roof, can I find balance and peace of mind that I do not have to be
me for a while. It is this place, sandwiched between a rundown
apartment building and a shoddy retail outlet store, where I do not
have to be Stevie anymore.
Sure, I can see those as they pass by
on the sidewalk above, or on their smoke breaks over at the store
(undoubtedly mocking me and my undeniably awesome nun-chuck skills)
but, in my own little corner of the world, it doesn't matter to me.
It is quiet here, save for the little creek that divides the
embankments. And, it is within this quiet I am more than anyone
could imagine. I do not have to listen to mother telling me to “get
outside, it's such a nice day”. I do not have to deal with the
staring and awkward glances on the bus as I travel to my own nirvana.
I do not have to worry about hiding my nun-chucks least anyone
becomes scared and calls the cops. I do not have to listen to a boss
tell me when and how to do menial tasks. I just have to breath in
the fresh spring air and melt away to the ninja training place deep
inside my cerebral cortex.
As I twirl my nun-chucks, my breathing
slows down and I become more centered. All of man's modern
contraptions are blocked out and I become locked in with all that our
dear mother earth has. My muscles move the wooden handles across my
torso and over my back without any conscious thought to do so. It's
as if my body is allowing my mind to absorb the pulse of life, of
nature. Everything slows down and as my eyes slowly open, I can see
myself as I should be. Not as Stevie. Not as someone who is slow,
or weird. Not as someone who takes a handful of pills to make me
“normal”. No, I see myself as who I truly am. I like the true
me.
When I am done, I put my nun-chucks in
my backpack, walk to the nearest bus stop and go home.
