this

In my journaling this morning I wrote out this thought, that the times were weird and how it feels both like a time for mourning and a time for rejoicing. It feels as though life has given me both great reason to dance in the rain, and ample opportunity to wallow in the woods. The feeling is odd, its the kind of mishmash of light and dark that creates a feeling of disconnection. I have seen the valley low, and it has brought me low. I have seen the mountaintop high, and oh what a beautiful sight it’s been. 

In my left hand I hold grief and in my right I hold untold joy. It makes holding a cup of tea difficult. So I find myself sitting in the meadow, somewhere in the middle feeling a bit odd. A little light and a little heavy. A little too close to the ground and yet not quite close enough. I’m left feeling completely in love with the life I’m living. But remain unable to shake the haunting feeling that something is missing, like I’ve forgotten something small and important. 

My brother helped me address my mail, and I don’t know about you, but when they talk about love I think that one will make the list. I think buying my mom a bag a lettuce will too. 

I think I’ve spent such a long eternity down at the bottom of the well, that resting in the meadow doesn’t quite feel far enough away. The hilltops are just as imposing if you ask me. I think I’d like to become accustomed to the meadow, and stay here awhile. 

Peace is uncomfortable when chaos has been a childhood friend. When fear has followed you like a bad cloud. Contentment feels like laziness. Rest will feel like rebellion. 

I’ve learned that night time, just before bed, is not the time for contemplation. The shadowy corners of my bedroom feel like invitations to pull myself apart seam by seam. It’s not. They’re only corners. And the dark is only the lack of light, not its absence. 

So the truth comes through softly, comes out a measure at a time. The light and dark of it all can be held in just my two hands. They can be seen, felt, even smelled, and all at the same time. Grief and joy are not the absence of each other, and they’re not really related, but you’ve got to have both if you’re going to make it out of this alive. 

The times are weird, and the times are tough, but doesn’t mean its time to pack up shop. On the contrary I think it’s time to begin anew. Pick a new flower and smell a new tree, its okay. This life is tough, but what breaks the rock will soften the sky. And I can’t help but notice the rain has been giving me extra kisses.