It’s been a week of ups and downs. Or was it downs then ups? Either way, I’m amazed at poles of my perspective.
On Thursday, I arose – notice I don’t say “awoke” – tired and irritable. A fairly sleepless night, the third in a row, finally taking its toll on my emotions. And what a swirling mass of fratchy emotions I was! Hey, color me human: I find it hard to be happy when I’m sleep-deprived. That melancholy persisted through the day. Try as I did to squelch it, my self-pity only gained momentum as I attempted various attitude adjustment strategies. The only cure: to bed early.
Lights out. Deep sleep, and Friday was not only a new day, it was a new universe. A good night’s rest and the world is completely fresh. I’m back in love with life and living and am nearly gushing with wonder at the world. My place in the world seems to make sense again. My patience seems endless. That’s quite a change compared to Thursday.
Ah, it’s a humbling thing, this journey I’m on. I guess one thing I’m learning is not to get attached to an emotion; look at it, see it, experience it, but don’t expect it to be permanent.
I step back, compare Thursday and Friday and wonder how my perspective on those days could have existed in isolation of each other. If I didn’t know happiness, I wouldn’t recognize sadness. If sadness were unknown, how in the world could I know that Friday was a gift. I have begun to wonder if I would really want to be happy, jubilant, every moment of every day. If being sad all of the time is unnatural, so is always be joyful.
Accepting that is comforting; it slays my fears. If I know that change will come, I can be prepared. Don’t you hate uncertainty? I do. So, being sure of impending change provides me with peace. When I’m happy, I don’t worry about the future. When I’m sad, I don’t worry either, as I know: it WILL change.
I am coming to understand that I don’t have to solve all of my problems. Really, what I need to do is be patient, show compassion, forgive the transgressions, and breathe.
And today, I’m breathing deeply.
We all dance through the dark
in our own way. Nudged along
by wind and wave we journey
to the tiniest of cues.
Like leaves turning
to face light: phototropic
we angle toward, then away
we lean, we sway,
we falter on our path.
And sometimes, sometimes,
we get it right.