You know that feeling of not being able to describe what you’re feeling? Where everything makes sense on one hand and yet absolutely nothing makes sense on the other. Where one part of you is so intrinsically connected to yourself, to the world, to the trees and the water and the air; and yet another part of you can’t tell the difference between black and white. It’s almost like this overwhelming feeling of numbness. Of complacency. Maybe I’m so lost I don’t even know what makes me happy anymore. Or maybe I’m just so far from where I’m meant to be and these are signs that change is coming-or that I need to change something. I’m at my most darkest right before I bloom. Somehow the communication between my conscious and subconscious is lacking. Somehow there’s a gap, a foggy and wavering pathway. Let’s say I know what want, how do I achieve it? I used to think I had all the answers, and now I have all the questions. Things don’t add up like they used to. The older I grow the more curious I become and the more dazzled and dizzy I get. In a way, I love it, I love my mind and how it works. How it tries to make sense of all of life’s mysteries. How it always seems to find the kindness in strangers. How it goes through its own phases like the seasons. How I have this innate desire to always search for more. More knowledge. More growth. More inspiration. More connections. More more more. It’s troubling too, because I can never escape it, although I’m not sure I want to. I enjoy simplicity. I enjoy the moon, the sun and the stars. I enjoy the sights and sounds of waves crashing against the shore. I enjoy the sweet smell of honey. I enjoy the sunshine on my face equally as much as I enjoy the raindrops in my hair. I enjoy laughter and I enjoy tears. I enjoy sadness-it’s when I reflect most. What burdens me is confinement. Routine. Predictability. I wish I could speak my words to you, Reader, but I hope that you read this out loud softly to yourself. There’s something magical that happens when you put a voice to words, your own voice at that. I’ve had a rough two weeks and I haven’t been the best version of myself, to the world, those closest to me and most importantly to myself, and that is nobody’s fault but my own. I know this may seem like I’m in a rut of some sort-and I am, but it’s nothing I don’t mind. It’s life, and as much as we want life to be a smooth dent-free road, it’s not, nor will it ever be, and nor do I want it to be. Sometimes all you need in life is a few cuddles with your dog and sometimes you need more. This time I need more but don’t get me wrong I’ll take those cuddles as well…in fact I just did (thx Lou baby 🐶). I think the biggest step to moving forward and into the course of progression is coming to terms with yourself and your thoughts. For me, writing it out has always been my thing. It’s therapeutic. It’s enlightening and quite honestly really fucking liberating. Life is so exciting and full of endless opportunities and I think why I feel down sometimes, is when I’m not actively going out of my comfort zone or learning something new, or being challenged. It transpires when I’m not intently seeking out new chances for self-evolution. I’ve always been very open to everything, but every now and then I forget to take my own advice and to make it happen rather than waiting around for it to happen to me.
The beauty in life lies in balance but also in the grey spaces, not seeing things as one extreme or the other, but simply accepting what it is for how it is. Doing you’re best but at the end of the day letting go of what you think is supposed to happen, and just letting it be. Thank you for being here, I think parts of our souls are now connected. xx
-A
