Into the restless sea, our bodies bottled hearts and dreams, a love letter to the world.

by lostindrawers

“you look tired, with all the winds conspiring at your back, and the salt on your hands. thrown into the restless sea, the undertow is writhing at your feet. – Lewis “Bitter Days”

The night air is heavy – the dew has yet to touch down – and we are sequestered to a tangled mess of sheets and the white noise of a whirring fan.  My love sleeps lightly and our dog naps and listens for trains.  I sit upright staring at a glowing screen – and I wonder where we stand in the midst of history and the world to come.  How do you go about building a life that leaves an imprint?  Not just a tracer than fades in the sky of the future, but a imprinted fossil that those who loved you can share with those they choose to cherish.  How do you build a dream-filled life in a world where our culture somehow killed the American dream?  The dream was one a formula that eventually collapsed under the weight of expectation.  So, our parents, aunts and uncles built eutopian dreams of freedom and love that were fake excuses for the sex drugs and rock and roll of naive youth.  It was a socially concious excuse to party.  But, the money and 2.5 kids came calling and suburbia grew around the crumbling cities of our ancestors and we were born into divorce and new wave.  Religion gave way to football and brunch.  We became disallusioned with rules – by freshman year we formed bands, we dressed differently in our high schools and we read book and then quit reading when we discovered the Internet.  Our clothes went from tight to loose to even tighter to tailored and here we are…a couple of generations with all the talent in the world and we are standing about deconstructing the lives of all our friends/friendemies/strangers/reality stars.  It’s like a person walking their brand new bicycle up the hill instead of learning to use the gears.  We have the future square in front of us and we are stuck staring at our smartphones.  Is our future listed on 4Square?

Why are we waiting?  Why have I waited so often?  I am nearly 32 and yet I spend too many nights examining all the angles, yet the move is simple and it is in the one direction we rarely take: straight forward.  The angles, our post-modern discontent is exhausting…I am tired and for once in my life I am ready to move on.  No more editing as not to offend the narrow and outdated puritanical views of life and love.  No more bowing to the status quo of relationships and habit.  We are who we were created to be – no one should have to apologize or edit for what their natural make up is.  You are who you suspect you might be – embrace yourself, get over yourself and give your love and life to a cause greater than yourself.  We all benefit from simply letting go of the ties than bind us.  We all are somebody.

Who are we?  We are Bo and Heather.  We are Lost in Drawers.  We are dog owners.  We are entrepreneurs and small business owners.  We are writers and collectors.  We are stylists and documentarians.  We are lovers and givers.  We are acceptors of all people – no matter what race, gender, class, sexual orientation, religious affiliation or otherwise, political ideology and subculture.  We are all about real – real talk, real love, real attitiude, real creativity, real honesty, real revolutionaries of love and hope.  We are your brother and sister in a new way of living.  We are newly free.

We will be successful because failure is just letting distractions get the better of you…and I am newly self-aware.  There is freedom in seeing the miniscule reality of fear.  It’s not what it seems on the internal side of our emotional filter.  This is our chance – accepting the good of the past while letting go of the accompanying pain.  The present is our diving board, our dock, our beachhead.  It is time to step back in the water, letting the restless tide sweep us back out to sea…the horizon is our home and we will sail past the edge of this crumbling world into the restoration of a redeemed kingdom world that has no end.