If Only The Flowers Were In Bloom

There was a time in my life when I gave serious consideration to entering the field of psychology. The mind has always fascinated me.

I have great compassion for the workings of the mind, as fragile and strong as it may be. I often wonder where thoughts go, once given their time within the mind. Except for the electrical energy that jumps through the brain, where does the thought itself reside? 

Lately my mind has been tied tight to my emotions. Too tight. I’ve pretty much been caught in a state of inertia. My mind won’t allow me to move forward despite my many attempts to point it in the right direction. I’m a strong person, and yet as of late I haven’t felt very strong. I’ve been through a great number of things during my 42 years. Every time the floor has fallen out beneath me, I have managed to suspend myself long enough to jump back onto solid ground. Lately however, I find myself hovering in this floor-less state of being. It seems I  have an uncanny ability to unwittingly stand on top of trap doors regardless of my desire for solid ground. Perhaps this last occurrence was one floor-drop too many. I’ve learned to never count on things, except that of my own resiliency, my mind and my ability to move ahead. And yet, it seems all the elasticity of my spirit has gone brittle.

Tomorrow may very well be a better day. I say that to myself often throughout the day. It is my mantra as of late. It is an empty mantra at this point, but in time, hopefully it will take on substance. This feels quite different than the wretched depression I was crippled with when I wrote my first novel. Although, many a wonderful masterpiece has been created from such a place. Maybe I should seize the moment and write a novel so gripping that everyone loves to hate the misery of it. People do like to entertain themselves with misery. I don’t. But many must as so many television shows are centered around the nightmare’s many of us have gone through. Perhaps for them the misery is removed: abstract. As far as misery goes, there are few more miserable thoughts than the day a person becomes wholly and fully aware of their own repetitive movements. The day they notice they are merely going through the motions of mortal existence. Those days are more brutal than a gunshot to the chest. There is a chance one may survive the gunshot, but the other stays within the mind until life altering changes are made. Even then the awareness lingers.

Struggle makes us stronger, some fool once said. According to that working-theory I must be Hercules by now. Life shouldn’t be so hard. Love should be a thing that is true and divine: it never vanishes. The heart should be content. If I could take away the top two worries that plague the mind’s of those I love I would be a far happier woman. Worry robs the soul. I don’t know why the mind allows worried thoughts. Nothing good comes of them. And why is it easier to believe the feasibility of a worried thought than one of hope and promise.

Today is a day I want to bring to a close, and yet there is still more work to be done. I hope your day is filled with a bit more sunshine than mine, whether coming from the sky above or from within that of your own heart. All that matters is that you feel it. And I do hope you feel it. Do what you have to do to shift yourself from merely being alive - to living. And I will endeavor to do the same.

Sane


PS ~ Dear friends please do not confuse my awareness with how I feel with something dire. I'm okay. Emotions are as vast and varying as are colors - unlike many, I just happen to stop and notice all my colors. Yes, I'm having a very off day. Today I am acutely aware of some of my more undesirable colors. I don't like denial, so I admit to these colors straight up. Today my world is painted darkly, but tomorrow maybe blue will emerge. If not tomorrow, then maybe the day after that. But I will be okay. Much love ~ S.