I am constantly being forced into solitary situations, and I don’t really understand why. After glimpses of normal socialization the past few months, I still find myself repeatedly pushed outside my comfort zone.
I ask myself, “what do I still have to learn?”
I value my personal time, and periods of reflection, but it is not in my nature to spend my life without people. I am positive the discomfort of the situation has made me a more self-sufficient and accountable person, but it has been a rough path to get there. Having processed many emotions, I have concluded:
How we feel has very little to do with other people.
Anger, frustration, happiness—they are all a choice. Even though we are on this crazy intertwined journey together, ultimately, we are fully functional solo entities that have to figure out our own lives, day by day. The road to the place our soul feels most aligned in our body is personal, and it requires focus, plus the ability to tune out external factors and forces.
I guess you could call it a soul-o journey.
One of the lessons I was forced to learn is I need to matter to myself first, and that doing so is not selfish. My life, and what I choose to do with it every day, is literally all on me, whether I am by myself, or surrounded by others.
For a while, I think I was waiting for a magical resuscitation of the things I missed and longed for. I had lost sight of the fact free will must be applied to make things happen. I sat in my own discomfort for a long time before I made a move.
I literally had to press play.
I wanted to be out in the world again, exploring and feeling alive. In an effort to get myself unstuck, I struck out with my dog on an epic road trip. I decided I could not wait for the prefect time, because it doesn’t exist. I couldn’t wait for someone to go with me, because that might not happen. We just went.
We drove more than 3800 kilometers in seven days. We went to new places and saw new things. We hiked to see ten waterfalls in one day in the Columbia River Gorge. We drove through the Redwood Forest in northern California. My dog saw the ocean for the first time, and met a starfish. We frolicked on vast empty beaches, along the Oregon coast, and watched pastel painted skies as suns set over the Pacific Ocean. It was magical.
My spirit is rejuvenated. My appreciation for the beauty of our world, rekindled.
I believe we can contemplate ourselves to death. We whittle away time we can’t get back, and will miss experiences meant for us.
Live is a verb. We need to go.
We can’t wait for the ‘right time.’ We can't live in a place of joy, or even comfort all the time. Life can fall short of our expectations and be disappointing, and still have something to offer us—a kernel of something good.
It is not supposed to be perfect.
We are not supposed to be perfect. We are not supposed to pretend it is perfect. It is not—and we are not—and we never will be.
A quote I’ve long railed against...that ‘someday someone will come along and put all your broken pieces back together,’ comes to mind when I think about the masterful mosaic of life. We are all held together with spackle and duct tape. There are cracks, dings, bumps and bruises on all of us, but it is our responsibility to decide how the pieces fit. It is our life, and no one else’s.
Life is as messy as it is wonderful, but it is ours right now. We need to go, and go, and go, until there is no more going 🦋