Friday, June 8, 2012

I was waiting.

I realize it's been a while.  After the first month of not writing I started thinking I'd need something quite profound to kick start my writing again, but of course I didn't find that.  I was in a superior funk and I'm just now feeling my creative juices rummaging around in there.  I have been writing though, just to clear that up.  In the middle of the funk, about 2 or 3 months in, I realized that writing - with a pen and a piece of paper - has always served me well when I can't think of anything else to bring me up for air.  So I grabbed my red Italian leather embossed journal that I began writing in - wait for it - in 2003 for goodness sakes...and I began to write.  Let it all out.  Writing with honesty, writing in detail about how much my life sucked at those particular moments seemed to each take tiny metric proverbial tons off my chest.  This is not to say life is perfect now, because it isn't.  Will it ever be though?  And is that what keeps some of us down?  Am I missing the goodness that's already in my life by being depressed and feeling forsaken because of what I don't feel and see here?  Call it the American Dream, call it the Soap Opera wish, call it vying for perfection.  What it is seems to be more of a crisis depressive funk trigger.

I'm coming out of it, and one of the things that is helping me is the Spiritual Journey I'm on.  In all of my life I've never felt such a desire to connect with my Higher Power.  Most of you call that God - and again it doesn't matter to me.  The more I look the more I find meaning in everything around me: every life, every death, every wrong turn, every lost love, every raindrop and starry sky.  Misery can sometimes be a good thing.  If it weren't for days, weeks, or months of misery, then we couldn't know happiness to be what it ultimately is.  Relief.  Protection.  Belief.  Faith.  Meaning.  Intention.  Truth.

Stick with me if you want.  I'm trying new things.  I'm gonna be putting myself out there a lot in the next few weeks and months.

I realize this wasn't profound.  But it might be one day.

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