Barely a brush over a button, and sound comes washing over. Kind of a magic, but it’s a big, black box; it might as well be a door into a slightly unsavory world, it takes such discipline, such generosity to press that button.
I’m feeling a shortage on both, but then again… sometimes the mind tunes out. It isn’t a failure, or anything really. Committee time. As years pass it’s a little more time I need to commune with lights and shadow playing, to turn people’s words over in my head and let them live there a little while, outside the distracting interaction of two or more of us.
This doesn’t mean that Walden Pond is my legacy, or I’ve arrived at Dickinson’s door. It doesn’t mean a history of hermits have personally donated to the construction of my soul, just. I don’t know… There’s different ways that emotions evolve us. When you’ve spent time angry, sometimes you spend time alone after that; so you can gentle back to people again. See them as friends on their own baffling journeys, discern between the ones who weren’t there and the ones who stood by.
Anger has its purpose too. And so does the ability to be alone. To dare to dream without a guidepost, a navigator. To dare to imagine the world is all within reach of your fingertips, to envision a fate beyond everything you know.
There’s a balance; between holding on and letting go, there’s a balance. Between solitude and company kept too long, between patterns and wide open spaces; there’s a balance.
And when the sun shines, I see it. When I get up there and try, I see it. You really can do amazing things, if you just acknowlege: This could be hard. This could be really, really hard. But I’m stronger than the obstacles, and I have more bench strength than my fears. Anything’s possible. I just have to give destiny the use of my two hands, & sometimes be okay not knowing the answers.
Participate in the angles of this strange story unwinding.