at the edge of everything
I've never felt so vulnerable. I'm talking about vulnerability so profound that it's deafening and it's blinding and it's a force to be reckoned with. But it's so worth it and so right. Because this feels like home, meaning the place where all my journeys end. Right now and indefinitely. Here. At the edge of everything.
I'm not scared of what I could lose. Well, that's not really true. Feeling vulnerable is inevitably scary. It's also a little bit of an adrenaline rush, but that's miniscule compared to the bigger picture and I'm weird and that's beside the point. Regardless of what's come and gone, I know this is worth the risk. I've known for a long while now.
Believing in something then acting on that belief requires being vulnerable because you have to put your heart on the line. The story has two primary outcomes. And we know them both all too well. So, like Sara sings, we hold our hearts out and we clutch them to ourselves all at the same time. But we learn that only giving half doesn't really work.
So we decide when it's worth the risk. And if we think it is, then we let go. And when we dare to open our eyes, we might find ourselves feeling extra hollow because our hearts grew but the space is empty. For what seems like forever, we feel like a bigger heart just means that there was more to break. Or the good ending: our hearts get bigger and the room inside them isn't empty. With time, if things work out, we find ourselves at depths of emotions we never knew could be reached.
Either way, our hearts get bigger. That's good news for the long run, don't you think? So I guess you could say that in some far-fetched fairy tale land sort of way, it's always worth the risk. I like far-fetched and fairy tale kinds of things. They remind me of dreams. Dreaming is a good way to test the water before diving in for real. Good dreams also look a lot like hope. Here at the end of Advent, we should be extra aware of the importance of hope. Hope lets at least some small part of us remain aware of the good in what's been and what's to come.
I need to pack for New York. But first I need to figure out the weather situation. And in other news, I've been redeemed. Contrary to my original assumption, I made all A's. Party on.
Happy New Year.
I'm not scared of what I could lose. Well, that's not really true. Feeling vulnerable is inevitably scary. It's also a little bit of an adrenaline rush, but that's miniscule compared to the bigger picture and I'm weird and that's beside the point. Regardless of what's come and gone, I know this is worth the risk. I've known for a long while now.
Believing in something then acting on that belief requires being vulnerable because you have to put your heart on the line. The story has two primary outcomes. And we know them both all too well. So, like Sara sings, we hold our hearts out and we clutch them to ourselves all at the same time. But we learn that only giving half doesn't really work.
So we decide when it's worth the risk. And if we think it is, then we let go. And when we dare to open our eyes, we might find ourselves feeling extra hollow because our hearts grew but the space is empty. For what seems like forever, we feel like a bigger heart just means that there was more to break. Or the good ending: our hearts get bigger and the room inside them isn't empty. With time, if things work out, we find ourselves at depths of emotions we never knew could be reached.
Either way, our hearts get bigger. That's good news for the long run, don't you think? So I guess you could say that in some far-fetched fairy tale land sort of way, it's always worth the risk. I like far-fetched and fairy tale kinds of things. They remind me of dreams. Dreaming is a good way to test the water before diving in for real. Good dreams also look a lot like hope. Here at the end of Advent, we should be extra aware of the importance of hope. Hope lets at least some small part of us remain aware of the good in what's been and what's to come.
I need to pack for New York. But first I need to figure out the weather situation. And in other news, I've been redeemed. Contrary to my original assumption, I made all A's. Party on.
Happy New Year.