Monday, November 26, 2012

thirsting harts

A wounded deer leaps the highest.
--Emily Dickinson

One of the most beautiful sights that no one sees is a girl running to meet a beloved.
There's something absolutely magical about the feeling that starts in your heart and shoots through your legs, and renders walking irrelevant and incompetent. It's one of those very few times that Joy renders our body simply too slow. Excitement builds, and your heart responds by beating twice as fast. Desire takes over your heart, takes over your feet, and there you go--careening like a wild thing towards your home.

As a deer longs for flowing streams/so longs my soul for you, O God.


You sit in a boring meeting, you half-heartedly linger in a conversation, you idle aimlessly in a silence that feels like a prison. Feels like a wasteland. Feels like a desert.
You thirst to reach the fountain.
Thirst to find the oasis.
And once you sight it, you leap.
You run.
You can no longer contain yourself.
You fly out of a meeting, dart out of a room, burst out of a door. You take off running down the stairs, down the sidewalk, down the grassy quad.
Your heart feels like it's ten steps ahead of you, and you have to run to catch up with it.
You're caught up in an exhilarating race to the finish line, but the only one running is yourself.
You are overwhelmed by the sweet surety that there is nothing, nothing in the world that will keep you from reaching your goal.
Which makes you run faster towards the beloved spring that is patiently waiting to quench your thirst.

I saw a girl last night who was running in a way that my heart recognized instantly. She was running towards someone she loved: hair flying, feet seeming to barely touch the ground, and that smile of anxious desire--smiling at a reunion just over the horizon. 
Who could see such a sight and not smile?


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