Monday, June 27, 2016

thoughts about my current lesson with time

I'm learning a slow--perhaps painfully slow--lesson about time.

One of my many weaknesses involves my relationship with time --
how it never seems to be enough, or it's too much, or it brings me something
I thought I wanted but something still that does not fully satisfy.

But recently it has occurred to me that my current lesson with time is all about
treating each bout and lesson with difference in comparison to other times/lessons.

For instance, just because an opportunity hasn't presented itself in past days and weeks,
does not at all indicate that such opportunity is off the table in today's or tomorrow's timing.

I'm learning--and also attempting to holdfast to the idea--that the timing of each day cannot
be reflective of what was once before and what now lies ahead.

I torture myself with the mindset that what hasn't happened will continue to be, not because of fact
but because of pattern.

And patterns, though indeed consistent, don't have to be long lived.

I knew that moving home post-Los Angeles would be a difficult thing.
I knew that fear would be very real, and that complacency might be tempting.

I knew that a degree wouldn't come with a full bank account, opportunity, a career,
or opportunity knocking at my door.

(Remember my post about how I need to be the one knocking on opportunity's door?)

I was once told by a professor that this generation--my generation--is the one that just expects out of entitlement.

You feel entitled to do what you want, to have what you want -- a car, a house, a lover, a career, fun, etc...

That's what I was told.

And last night through tears I told my mom that I don't expect anything to be easy,
I don't even want success (whatever that word fucking means) handed to me.

Success wouldn't taste as sweet if it lacked the tang of blood, sweat, tears -- and some
long days, sleepless nights, lessons in humility, going the extra mile (or 100), mistakes,
enemies, and years driving a beat up old car, eating lots of soup and popcorn, and living with people you can't stand.

And none of the above paragraph sounds unappealing to me.


Because each seemingly negative thing is a facet to a beginning.

And a beginning is such a blessed, beautiful thing.

I don't want anything to be easy when I'm building my life.

I'm not wishing hardship upon myself,

but I am telling life that it's ok to make me earn things.

Because if I earned it then, at the end of the day, it truly is mine -- and I can be proud of that.

I'm trying to remember the fact that knowing the whole picture of my life wouldn't help me
or anyone. I wasn't made to know the whole picture, I'm meant to put the pieces together as I go.

The whole logline of life can sound rather endearing, but we all know it isn't.

Those pieces are jagged. And oftentimes--like my life right now--they seem to be missing from the box.

I have to remember that not having all of the pieces now doesn't mean I won't see the whole picture someday.

I'm trying to hold on to what I do know because what I knew from January-April was something that made me happier than I have ever been in my life.

And happiness in all of it's flightiness does come back around, it doesn't have to be gone for long, gone forever.

And I am indeed happy.

Just flustered by time,

wanting it to speed up,

knowing that I should be present for the now,

scared of what might happen if it stays slow or does speed up,

and anxious with what it may or may not bring.

But to focus on all of this is to take away from today.

And, who knows, today could bring the piece that's missing,
the piece that tomorrow didn't promise.

If I look forward, I might look right past it.

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