You want to know what I'm really thinking??

This week has been one for the books and yet, I haven't been able to form a single coherent thought to put down on paper.  It's interesting that I know writing is cathartic for me yet I often shy away from the pen when I am having a rough time.  I don't even know where these feelings are coming from, which (let's face it) is all too common in my life.

All too common....

Oh, how I long for the common theme in my life to be an understanding of the ever-flowing thoughts in my head.  If I could have a monkey-scribe sit on my shoulder to write down my thoughts, I would probably be a little better off...plus, I would have a monkey-scribe.  Bonus points.

It has recently been revealed to me that I have a philosopher's brain.  What does that mean?  In a nutshell, it means that daily I am grappling with the meaning of my existence.  I ponder every sound, emotion, action, feeling, sight, and wonder why it happened the way it did or weigh the endless possibilities of their existence.  Endless possibilities that I may never accept as truth.  Because if I am constantly searching for other possibilities, how will I ever see light and truth?

I wonder if I am meant for something bigger than even I can fathom.  Am I meant solely to be Lucy Jane Stoner Brittin?  Am I not meant to do but meant to be?  An existence for the sake of existing, a wandering soul full of questions and seeking answers which I may never find?

My mind never stops...never.

When I am put in a situation, and it can be any situation, I sit with my introspective-self.  I may be alone, looking at the wind blowing through the leaves of a tree and wonder what else that gust has seen.  How many mountains has it rolled over or how did it caress a person's face a thousand miles away?  What did they feel when it hit them?  Did someone's previous reaction to that very gust impact the next?

This is me...this is all of me (well, not really all, but you might get it eventually).  This is the way my brain works and I am left with only the emotions of which I am capable to help cope.  And if the universe has this life set up for me, then so be it...

So next time you see me walking down the street and I'm in my own little world, wandering around with that ever-so serious face of mine...you may think I'm in a bad mood, that there's something wrong, or maybe that I'm just a mean person...but if you see me...ask me about the wind and maybe, just maybe, I'll tell you a story about the gust that spanned a thousand years.