The only thing certain in life is life’s uncertainty. We are busy people in a tumultuous world, and though we may fight to keep our necks above water, often the tide rises too high too quickly and we plunge. Then it is a fight of will: to outlast until we either find the strength to swim up above its new crest, or the endurance to wait until it recedes and we can again breathe. The real courage of our souls is our ability to discern which of those two actions we need to take, and then to take the action that will most benefit us in the long run. Do we fight an ever-rising tide with the last ounce of strength we have or do we relinquish control and accept that we will breathe again when it is time for us breathe?
I’ve been going through a gauntlet of difficulties, and I’ve had a hard time figuring out what to do. A hard time finding my way to the top of the tide. I feel like I’ve been suffering, but what is suffering anyway?
I do know that I am exhausted. I’ve hardly had the time or the strength for anything really, much less writing or idle browsing, and at this point I’m getting very behind.
Even now as I edit old thoughts, there is so much going on: in the air, in the ground, in the skies – and celestially – all over the globe. It’s Midsummer now as well. The atmosphere is pregnant with so many new and astounding energies with so many beautiful faces of their own, and once again, a great crescendo is on the horizon. I’m really looking forward to it.
I want to make time to write in between my life issues, even if it’s just a snippet and more resembles a journal entry than a whole introspective missive. This blog has begun to give me a lot of joy and peace, as has reading the adventures and beautiful poetry and experiments of the blogs I follow, and I’m missing it. So I think – for the time being – I’ll focus more on writing about the present moment, rather than taking an unexpected hiatus while I try, in my exhaustion, to make every little word of a longer article just so.
Change is inevitable, though progress is equally inevitable. All things grow in order and mature in chaos, and there is a lesson to be learned from every hardship. Just as the tide will always rise, it will also always recede, but that’s easy to forget while struggling underwater. We endure our grief, and the reward for our patience and pragmatism is that we realize our inner strength and the subsequent freedom and insight that this strength provides for us. The strength to know and to be free despite our limitations or the limitations inherent in the particular hand we’ve been dealt.
Despite them, no. Rather, because of them.
We want to transcend, but what meaning does transcendence have without the understanding and appreciation of why? And so how can true freedom be known or appreciated if we’ve never been caged? Would air be as precious to us if the tide never rose above our heads?