Deep Into Winter We All Must Go
Gratitude has become an unpopular sentiment. Currently, we are swimming in wave after wave of a universal clinging and longing for things to just 'go back to the way they were'. But truthfully - when we look at that statement and relate it back to our own lives - from both a pandemic and personal place - how untrue to form is that? One of the only certainties we have in life is the idea that 'things never go back to the way they were'. Never. Life is movement. Life is fluidity. Life is loss. Life is pain. Life is healing. Life is change. Life is rebirth. And though we may connect with pieces of our internal past-selves for healing along the dusty, thicketed trail of existence, we never ever go backwards. We always move forward. It's just the barren essence of reality.
But there is an immensely stark beauty in moving forward.
For the first time in months, I'm feeling grateful - and I'm not afraid to say that. I'm grateful to be a dad and to have this internally and externally beautiful, hilarious and kind human growing alongside me. I'm grateful for her hard working mom who just puts her daughter's needs first time and again. I'm beyond fucking thankful and overjoyed for her spoiling grandparents and silly uncles and aunts - and the good family and the solid people in my life who have stayed the years and the fights and the phases and the conflicts and the stormy seasons of me. I have some very god-dang cool new and old friends who are strong and deep and smart and funny and giving and understanding. And I can call upon them - and they can call upon me. I'm finally feeling truly at peace with the person I've been made into and who I'm becoming.
Sure - I've made mistakes. I've been hurt. I've had an entire house get biblically flooded. I've been in long love-relationships that have ended. I've seen friends disappear - both physically and metaphorically. I've been intense with myself about where I think I need to be. I've had jobs that I just simply exist within. I've disliked my body shape. I've been overqualified time and time again. I've applied and pushed for creative career related jobs that I know I've been amply qualified for, and where I destroyed the room at the interview, only to have less than zero response in return. And there's way more than that - and yes; all of that is tough water to wade though - and many have it galaxies tougher than that.
But here's the thing; I haven't stopped pushing. And I can't stop creating. And I will not stop moving forward. And I refuse to stop. I actually can't; it's science. I refuse to stop pushing myself to be kind to someone who has purposely been rude. I refuse to let negative depictions of me - whether internal or external - define me. I refuse to let those whiny lamentations be the final chapter of my story. I refuse to let past hurts keep a soul-muscle flexed and injured, when it needs to be relaxed and stretched. I refuse to look in the mirror and say 'welp - your best years are behind you' or 'you missed your window' or whatever negative thought pops in there.
Because at the end of the day, it's seriously and ultimately alright to just be who you fucking are. And that's a place of cosmic surrender and total Truth with a capital T. And we can all get there - Right. Fucking. Now. I can disappear into the creation of a song that I've crafted that takes me to a different place, or helps me re-visit heart-lessons that I need to remember. Or I can re-visit friends or towns I haven't seen in a while. Or I can play with my daughter and see the wonder in every moment she's alive and discovering something that expands her world.
Life is incredibly sad. It's a beautiful poem that's being written right before us that we barely understand, and so often, our human words fall flat on their faces at the doorstep of description. And we are all in and among the words. And so many of us swim in these endless stormy seas of expectation. We gasp and we swim and we fight the life-current. We have these ridiculously high standards for ourselves - and when we fall short of the marks we set, we dislike what we see in the mirror. But there's a difference between wanting high standards and expecting perfection. I feel like there are many of us who need to read this, who have been so hard on themselves - especially during the current space and time we are in - and who just need to have a tiny breather-break to sit back and enjoy who they are. Even for a minute.
The winter is cold and dark and long - yes. But it's beautiful. And the spring always comes.
May your find your winter with enjoyment of yourself - and may you keep moving. Always.
