3. on a mountain, over the sea
Tom Petty wrote a song called Wildflowers and a few lyrics became my anthem early on in life…
You belong among the wildflowers
You belong in a boat out at sea
You belong with your love on your arm
You belong somewhere you feel free
The sense of belonging to this idea of freedom caught in the fibers of my mind. Especially since anxiety and an overwhelming sense that I was somehow trapped by something that I couldn’t quite name or nail down had been attacking me on all sides.
I wanted to be weightless. I wished to be the girl without a care in the world, doing what I wanted when I wanted. Drifting to a fro with anything that caught my eye; willing to join a caravan of gypsies if ever they passed through town. Something about being a nomad, not being tethered to a post, made me think that an open road would reveal the answers for how to “find myself” or possibly even be able to unearth a certain assurance that my soul was crying out for.
Growing up I was a tomboy through and through. My interests swerved less towards makeup and more towards anything that got dirt under my nails (except for a brief period of time when apparently I was afraid of ants.)
If it included climbing trees, challenging boys to a pull up contest, riding my bike- basket and tassels not included- around the neighborhood, and adventure/imagination then I was all in.
Out of these though, my favorite thing to do was run.
barefoot
hair loose
legs taking me as far and as fast as they could go…
That became my first attempt to escape the mess of my internal wiring and clasp onto the ropes of liberation and bravery.
I imagined myself running away from the thoughts that tore through any barricade I built up on my own.
I pictured running to the middle of a great plain, planting my feet into the soil and growing strong enough to handle anything.
My family and I lived in Nebraska for a bit during my formative years. Every once in a while we would drive through some pretty open landscapes. Lofty rolling hills, you know the scene…nothing but farmland and miles of open space in between.
Every time, the picture perfect view flamed my instincts to kick my shoes to the side and take-off, soaking up every ounce of freedom while running with the wind.
My grandpa tells me there’s an old saying, “they call the wind Mariah”, so I guess it's only fitting. As a kid, the ability to move like this equated to power and control; the advancement of creating my own
left right left right,
pace felt like flying. This sense of release enticed me then and as I got older freedom became my god, my greatest desire.
Control and freedom. My paradox theme song.
And I marched along to the beat of that drum, hoping it would drown out the sound of the stampedes coming for me.
Galatians 5:1 says
“It is for freedom that Christ sets us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourself be burdened again…
Instead of surrendering to Jesus and trusting that He is the one to supply freedom, I mastered weathering my thoughts/worldly whims and taking off as fast as I could…away from humility and further towards closed fists and a stubborn spirit.
As a result, I became a prideful and fearful reckless runner who would eventually be brought to my knees…