Time to come home
It's been so long since I've been here. Amazing, really, how a collection of thoughts and ideas can seem a concrete as an actual location. This is the anchor to my past, and the bridge to my future.
No matter how painful the past may sometimes seem, either because of the pinprick of actual memories, or the dull ache that comes with the realization that things are not the same, and never will be again, no matter how much you fight to believe- No matter how happy I am living only in the present, I can't truly abandon this place.
For a long time Ive been empty of thoughts and words to place on the page, the screen. The words in my mind were enough, and I was content- deeply contented. But I've come most of the way around the circle and found that although I still have nothing I ache to say, I want to be able to say it. I wish to exercise my pen again.
It's been hard too, to visit here because it's an island that none of the people who have entered my life in the past eight months comprehend. Their currents eddy me away from this island of time, and it's only now that I've thought to seek a boat in order to return.
It seems so much has changed in my life and yet nothing because I feel as though I lost nearly everything before I struck out upon my own path. I'm no longer certain that I understand those that I love, that have always understood and cared for me, and whom i had always thought I understand. Is this the reflection of a change, or merely of my own naivete in presuming to understand, even before. There are leaps I have not taken, divides I have not crossed while others I love lept across the abyss; and stumbled and fell and had to be clasped, and carried to safety. I am cautious by nature, not out of fear but out of self-preservation and I tend not to cross the ravine unless I believe the bridge in secure, nor cross the stream unless I believe there to be stepping stones beneath the surface.
The difference between today and when I last stepped upon this island is that then, I felt myself wandering in its forests, knowing that there was someway through the trees and determined to find it, sometimes concerned that I could not. But today it doesn't trouble me. I know that the path I seek does not exist- that should I have found it, I would not be happy to tread it. Instead, I am contented to aim myself toward the next tree, or stream, or rock and glance behind me to understand where I have been. I'm not in a hurry to discover myself but am resigned to the fact that I am not just me. I am a reflection of my experiences, of the people that I meet, both good and bad (and I'm fortunate to have met more of the former than the latter) I am puzzle, not to be put together and solved, but to be continually added to, and as long as I recognize when any new piece is added, then I DO know myself.
It's time for me to go now- my boy is here, and I have to take my cold medecine. But it's...interesting to be here again.
No matter how painful the past may sometimes seem, either because of the pinprick of actual memories, or the dull ache that comes with the realization that things are not the same, and never will be again, no matter how much you fight to believe- No matter how happy I am living only in the present, I can't truly abandon this place.
For a long time Ive been empty of thoughts and words to place on the page, the screen. The words in my mind were enough, and I was content- deeply contented. But I've come most of the way around the circle and found that although I still have nothing I ache to say, I want to be able to say it. I wish to exercise my pen again.
It's been hard too, to visit here because it's an island that none of the people who have entered my life in the past eight months comprehend. Their currents eddy me away from this island of time, and it's only now that I've thought to seek a boat in order to return.
It seems so much has changed in my life and yet nothing because I feel as though I lost nearly everything before I struck out upon my own path. I'm no longer certain that I understand those that I love, that have always understood and cared for me, and whom i had always thought I understand. Is this the reflection of a change, or merely of my own naivete in presuming to understand, even before. There are leaps I have not taken, divides I have not crossed while others I love lept across the abyss; and stumbled and fell and had to be clasped, and carried to safety. I am cautious by nature, not out of fear but out of self-preservation and I tend not to cross the ravine unless I believe the bridge in secure, nor cross the stream unless I believe there to be stepping stones beneath the surface.
The difference between today and when I last stepped upon this island is that then, I felt myself wandering in its forests, knowing that there was someway through the trees and determined to find it, sometimes concerned that I could not. But today it doesn't trouble me. I know that the path I seek does not exist- that should I have found it, I would not be happy to tread it. Instead, I am contented to aim myself toward the next tree, or stream, or rock and glance behind me to understand where I have been. I'm not in a hurry to discover myself but am resigned to the fact that I am not just me. I am a reflection of my experiences, of the people that I meet, both good and bad (and I'm fortunate to have met more of the former than the latter) I am puzzle, not to be put together and solved, but to be continually added to, and as long as I recognize when any new piece is added, then I DO know myself.
It's time for me to go now- my boy is here, and I have to take my cold medecine. But it's...interesting to be here again.