As far as revelations go, I'm often waiting on the edge of my latest, obvious or revisted. The ones that are utterly new are ones I'm usually the least prepared for, and what I've fully wrapped my head around lately has been altogether surprising, shake-my-head worthy, confusing, or, if you will, befuddling.
I spend a lot of brain time sweating over the future. Which is ironic, seeing as I am not quite the plan-for-later type. Things happen, and I flow with them. Usually. Which is why this entire process requires a little bit of force against my will, a little bit of fighting my natural instincts, which has had its own rewards, even while twisting my arm ever so slightly, during which I can wince and keep trudging along.
Strangely, though, is this: When I'm not worked up over tomorrow, it makes me nervous. I tend to wonder if it means one of several things, or worse, a little bit of all of them: 1. Am I losing focus? Or, 2. Am I becoming complacent? Or, 3. Will I just walk in the same circle forever? Orrr 4. WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING WITH MYSELF?
And,
And,
Suddenly, panic mode is back. As soon as I let her through some open door, a window where she found a crack, one inch at a time, without a second to realize what's going on, I'm losing my breath trying to keep up, running behind her, fighting to get a grip on what she's doing and where she's going. But it's already too late. Panic always wins the race.
It's almost humorous (later, or from the outside) how quickly an everyday existence can escalate into any number of fear-induced questions (or worse, statements) about what's going to happen to us: Where will we be a year from now, five years from now, ten, twenty, fifty? Things will never change. Are we stuck in the same place forever? How can we force the world to work with us? How can we move on in such an uncooperative, hostile economy? How are the environments in which we find ourselves helping or hurting who we are? Is there something I'm meant for? There's nothing I'm meant for. I will never figure out where I belong. There is too much wrapped up in what we do, in where we work. If life is meant to be celebrated and enjoyed, why would I waste so much of it in a place that makes me unhappy? Does responsibility trump true contentment? Why do I only seem to think I need what the world is telling me I need? I will never be financially stable. I will always be working for something I don't stand for. I will never, I can't, and I won't.
If any of this sounds familiar, then you are in fact me, or wonderful you, facing a similar conundrum, all founded in a lot of negative thinking, fretting, and inevitable future stress wrinkles.
As far as oxymorons go, this one is a doozy. On one hand, if we're not supposed to waste our lives away with worry, then let's not do it. Worry, that is. Let's be a little more carefree, a little less upset over all of it, and as much as we're able to allow, let it be. On the far other end of the spectrum, however, change requires action. A difference in surroundings, accomplishments, and attitude means we have to stand up and actually do something. If we settle in and let the world continue, have we done just that: settle? If we, instead, run around in states of frenzy trying to repair all that we deem broken, every part of us reaching in all directions simultaneously, are we really doing our best to enjoy what we have? Do we spend more time freaking out than anything else? Are we missing the point by exercising our commitment to change?
I don't know. I really don't, and that's the truth. Perhaps if there were a way (and I assume there must be), to balance these two endeavors. Can we (wait for it) savor the blessings we already have (which are there, if you stop to consider, obvious or not), while attempting to get a foothold on our futures, all without giving up our sanity?
It's a thought. A nice one, at that. I'm usually (too usually) a victim of paralyzing fear, of Panic, of being sucker-punched directly in the gut by the universe, by what tomorrow brings. Maybe it brings the same thing as yesterday, or as today. Or maybe it sets me up for something new, something I never saw coming. Maybe I will see what I've been hoping to see for all this time, coming up over the hill to meet me. Maybe I will be surprised. It's not in my sights yet, not even close. The best any of us can do, is stand ready, hand to our brow, waiting firm with our eyes on the horizon. We might wait for a long time. It might feel like forever, who knows. We might suspect that the world is merely fucking with us, that we're all the butt of some joke we are just beginning to understand, the unfunny sort of comedy, the paradoxical kinds that twists our stomachs and makes us scratch our heads.
Still, if we're supposed to live life, and not dread it, and we're supposed to make good, rather than assume there is none, then I think we've found the purpose to the point. There is an ideal setting for all of this, I feel. And I am hardly in it, as I feel most people are not. This boat we all seem to be in must be the size of a freight ocean liner, times ten billion. IN THE MEANTIME, however, as long as we keep our minds in tact, let's remember what we have, that not all people have all things at once (even the ones you think do, don't), and carry on. Let tomorrow be tomorrow; for now, we have today.
It's almost humorous (later, or from the outside) how quickly an everyday existence can escalate into any number of fear-induced questions (or worse, statements) about what's going to happen to us: Where will we be a year from now, five years from now, ten, twenty, fifty? Things will never change. Are we stuck in the same place forever? How can we force the world to work with us? How can we move on in such an uncooperative, hostile economy? How are the environments in which we find ourselves helping or hurting who we are? Is there something I'm meant for? There's nothing I'm meant for. I will never figure out where I belong. There is too much wrapped up in what we do, in where we work. If life is meant to be celebrated and enjoyed, why would I waste so much of it in a place that makes me unhappy? Does responsibility trump true contentment? Why do I only seem to think I need what the world is telling me I need? I will never be financially stable. I will always be working for something I don't stand for. I will never, I can't, and I won't.
If any of this sounds familiar, then you are in fact me, or wonderful you, facing a similar conundrum, all founded in a lot of negative thinking, fretting, and inevitable future stress wrinkles.
As far as oxymorons go, this one is a doozy. On one hand, if we're not supposed to waste our lives away with worry, then let's not do it. Worry, that is. Let's be a little more carefree, a little less upset over all of it, and as much as we're able to allow, let it be. On the far other end of the spectrum, however, change requires action. A difference in surroundings, accomplishments, and attitude means we have to stand up and actually do something. If we settle in and let the world continue, have we done just that: settle? If we, instead, run around in states of frenzy trying to repair all that we deem broken, every part of us reaching in all directions simultaneously, are we really doing our best to enjoy what we have? Do we spend more time freaking out than anything else? Are we missing the point by exercising our commitment to change?
I don't know. I really don't, and that's the truth. Perhaps if there were a way (and I assume there must be), to balance these two endeavors. Can we (wait for it) savor the blessings we already have (which are there, if you stop to consider, obvious or not), while attempting to get a foothold on our futures, all without giving up our sanity?
It's a thought. A nice one, at that. I'm usually (too usually) a victim of paralyzing fear, of Panic, of being sucker-punched directly in the gut by the universe, by what tomorrow brings. Maybe it brings the same thing as yesterday, or as today. Or maybe it sets me up for something new, something I never saw coming. Maybe I will see what I've been hoping to see for all this time, coming up over the hill to meet me. Maybe I will be surprised. It's not in my sights yet, not even close. The best any of us can do, is stand ready, hand to our brow, waiting firm with our eyes on the horizon. We might wait for a long time. It might feel like forever, who knows. We might suspect that the world is merely fucking with us, that we're all the butt of some joke we are just beginning to understand, the unfunny sort of comedy, the paradoxical kinds that twists our stomachs and makes us scratch our heads.
Still, if we're supposed to live life, and not dread it, and we're supposed to make good, rather than assume there is none, then I think we've found the purpose to the point. There is an ideal setting for all of this, I feel. And I am hardly in it, as I feel most people are not. This boat we all seem to be in must be the size of a freight ocean liner, times ten billion. IN THE MEANTIME, however, as long as we keep our minds in tact, let's remember what we have, that not all people have all things at once (even the ones you think do, don't), and carry on. Let tomorrow be tomorrow; for now, we have today.
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