Sometimes, I allow myself to think back on my life, on the people I've met, the places I've been. It's been a very steep, and at times arduous, incline. I'm surprised that I am remarkably well-preserved, in spite of it all. That I am still more hopeful than jaded, more sweet than bitter, more alive than complacent, more in love than in longing, more free than disenfranchised.
I have to tell myself, "You did good kid. You did good". The alternative to this would be to obsess over every loss and failure, to give greater credence to the gloom in the doom, to consume the worst of things.
The truth is I've lived this alternative when, instead of running outside to play in the sun, I turned the other way to explore darker corridors.
I've come to know a couple of things in these meanderings. First of all, and most essentially, if you stay in these darker places for long enough, things just start to suck. I could probably be more eloquent in saying that, but it's true. Darkness just begets more darkness, and before you know it, you've dug yourself into an impossibly deep, abysmal hole.
It's a lonely place that should only be frequented in short visits, if only just to grapple with honest feelings and emotions occasionally. But to take a permanent residence there would be to give up. There is nothing worse than giving up.
The other thing I've learned is to not be so quick to judge others. You never know what cracks lie inside the porcelain. We all have struggles in our lives. Some are more obvious than others, and others are so intricately hidden that they are even invisible to oneself.
I might be more forgiving of mean-spirited people because if I had their burden, I might be the same. Sometimes the best that someone can give is the worst thing that can be given. That's just life. I'm not saying that this is right, or even fair. Some of us are just powerless to the things that consume us.
Maybe it's a sign of maturity or part of getting older because I'm pretty much done with the darkness. This is not to say that I won't be sad at times because I surely will be, but I like to think that I have a more balanced approach to the abyss. It's a place I'll visit when circumstances demand it and when the crumbling of things become too much to bear. But I'll be leaning towards that other end of the corridor in these times, where a screen door creaks open once in a while as the sun seeps through its porous skin.
It takes a certain sense of awareness, a wherewithal, to know not to stay in the presence of darkness for far too long. Light, luminous warm light, is far kinder and more forgiving.
Imagine being a kid again, when the last thing you want to do is stay cooped up inside all day. When you're bursting at the seams to go outside and play. Swing on a swing. Slide down a slide. Ride on a bicycle. Dangle on a monkey bar. Play with exuberance. Laugh. Smile. Bask in the sun. This is a reality well worth embracing.
I've learned enough not to be afraid of the dark. I just know to be wary of its nature and only hold its hand once in a while.
I do too! I mentioned it to Bobby earlier as I enjoyed your posts, and I'm certain it will be timeless and relaxing, maybe even lead to the four of us eventually forming a local society ladyhat club or something. ;-) Please hit me up in Facebook Messenger next time you are planning on coming and have some time to spare.
Hi Lee, thank you for stopping by. I'm very fond of Salisbury these days, and I hope we can get together next time I'm out there.
So, I woke up early this morning, and I'm not really sure why. I have every reason to stay in bed and sleep in, but it's as if something was summoning me into wakefulness.
The sunlight pours into my window as my curtains do all they can to mute it's brilliance. They do so to no avail. There is perhaps nothing more formidable than the sun. I've joined them now, my dear sweet curtains, in conceding to the onslaught of day.
I took a shower and made a mental note in my head to tidy up my room (we'll see how that goes). My mom called. She has this funny habit of calling me in the early morning--which is just fine. She makes me smile.
So, now, here I sit in front of my computer--overcome with the need to say something but not knowing what to say. I'm thinking about the week that is to come. It will be one of my busiest weeks in a long while. A voice in my head is telling me to soak in the quiet and absorb the peacefulness of this moment. Just a quiet hum from my computer is all there is to hear.
Before too long, my world will shift and grind its gears. Engines will rumble. Soon enough, I'll be whisked away--a million things will be calling for my attention.
Very good question from a reader. I wrote up a pretty thorough reply, and now I'm recalling a number of times i've been asked this. So, here we go -
You are travelling a lot, so I've been wondering if you feel lonely and if that's the case, how you deal with it. I don't mean to sound too personal, just for the record, so if you do not wish to answer, go ahead (just let me know if that's the case, or point me to some reading, maybe?). I have found that when travelling for extended periods of time in places one does not know people, or when moving, changing location, that a certain lack of close contact with people can occur. This can lead to demotivation (concerning activity in general, work...), paralyzation, distraction causing lack of devotion to work and the like. Well, you are often writing about many friends, and I suppose you mean over the internet? Is that enough, or a temporary substitute? How do you counteract low-states induced by such cirumstances? (If they occur, I don't know if you have the problem, it just seemed a possibility).
Thanks a lot,
Good observation. Yes, you're 100% right - lack of contact with people is a big problem with traveling.