Every morning that I can, I write letters to God. The Universe, to my higher power, whatever you want to call it.
I don’t worry about that anymore, whether people have the “right” idea of things (and by “right,” I mean matching up with my own personal definition). I used to spend a whole lot of energy concerning myself with such things. It felt like every day was a battle in which I was meant to correct everyone around me until the whole world’s views matched mine exactly.
It stemmed from insecurity. Compensating for it.
I’ve come to discover that, for me, right and wrong are arbitrary, when applied to the collective or whole. What is right, what resonates into the caverns of my heart and soul, isn’t necessarily the same for another person. “Every head’s a different world.” Every soul is a Universe. I don’t need them to match.
In fact, I would argue that they were never meant to in the first place.
The world is filling up. I like to think that the reason for this, that there are more people here than at any time in history, is because we are progressing as a species. Our souls are older, more experienced, which is leading to innovation. Technological, medical, psychological advances. Healing, becoming more conscious, more aware, more connected, compassionate. I think this is also leading to confusion, turmoil, violence and a push-back of extreme, outdated viewpoints. But overall, I see it as old ways dying, new ways being brought to light.
Of course, it could just mean that humans as a species were destined to devour themselves and in turn the planet in which they dwell. But, oddly enough, my view of things seems to be becoming more hopeful, positive. Trust me, it’s just as surprising to me as it probably is to you.
I read once that people who give others the benefit of the doubt are generally healthier and more positive. It make so much sense to me.
Yes, every morning I can, I write letters to God. Our relationship has evolved of late. This has become my main method of prater. I don’t beat myself up for not doing it correctly, traditionally. I don’t make things so difficult anymore. I do what feels best for me, and let that be enough. It’s enough.
I wake up, say kind words to myself as a sort of prescription for mental health, I stretch, and then I sit at my kitchen table, where the light is loveliest throughout the day, and I write. Just a few pages. Nothing overwhelming. Just a little bit every day. Consistent.
Consistency has been on my mind a whole lot lately, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it is one of the keys to growth and fulfillment.
I write about what’s worrying or bothering me, what’s making me happy. I write out anything that comes into my head. I rest on the page. In this one space, I get to be messy, or frustrated, or worried, critical, unreasonable. I allow myself this space to vent, and then I gain clarity.
I write out the things that I need, the things that I want, the things that I dream of. And, you know what? They come to life. This year I have learned that I can have anything I want. I just need to look in my heart, observe what is there, write it out, and work to make it happen.
I used to hide behind victimization. “I don’t know what I want. I’m sure I’m not capable or deserving or good enough to have it anyway.” What a relief, to let that jig be up.
I feel so happy lately. The weather is perfect, taking shifts between sweet, temperate, bright sunshine and relentless rain and thunderstorms. Everything is so green, I can hardly believe my eyes. I’ve never seen the world around me so green before. I wonder, is it greener than usual this year? Or have I only just allowed myself to see it?
Today I’m editing a photo session from last night, which means I’m not behind and overwhelmed like I was last year. I have enough money to pay my bills and hold my end of things. I’m not making quite as much as last year, but I have time, you see. To write morning pages, and talk to my lilac bushes and say nice things to myself in the mirror, all of the resentment and self-loathing that reflection used to bring now replaced with a sense of my own value and abilities. I get to watch Rick and Morty with Drew. I have time for sanity, I have time to breathe.
I’m just so happy. I changed the ringtone on my phone to the Harry Potter theme, and my text notification to a train whistle blowing. It makes phone notifications, which usually raise my blood pressure, now a pleasant, dreamy treat.
Each day I sit in our kitchen, writing and working, and I look out the windows at our backyard. The vine on our fence is growing with vim and vigor, transforming everything it touches into a wall of foliage. The lilacs and snowballs I planted last year are still small, but thriving and in full bloom. My mom and I cleaned out the flower beds they grow from a few weeks ago, and I can’t wait to plant more lovely things in them. There have been times when I didn’t think I’d be able to do such a normal thing with my mother again.
I’m writing this down so I can remind myself in the future, in moments when, inevitably, things don’t feel quite so sunshine-y green, of the time of year when the world swells into Spring in a wild crescendo of life, blooming, awakening, reaching upward to the sun, and each day is positively fraught with the hope and potential of what Summer will bring. To remind me that there will always be moments of clarity, hope and balance again.
That’s what this feels like to me. One of those rare moments of balance. A season of tranquility and beauty before another adventure of growth. Which is what I like to call challenging times: Adventures of Growth. That’s what they are to me, now that I’m high enough on my own lofty summit to look back on them clearly.
You know that part in The Lord of the Rings, after the breaking of the Fellowship, when Frodo and Sam are standing on that summit, and they can see Mount Doom. They can see it. It’s right there. And yet, it’s still miles and miles away? And with every step they take it almost feels like it’s getting farther from them?
That’s how it is, life. When you begin, you can see it all so clearly. Where you are, your destiny, and the path which leads you there. But once you depart, once you’re in the thick of it, you can’t see it anymore. Things become messy, you get lost, and sometimes it feels like you’ll never make it. Like this entire journey was a waste. How could you ever think you were meant for such a lofty destiny? Who do you think you are?
But then, there are moments of clarity. You make it to the top of a foothill, and you see it again. The big picture. The end goal. The higher cause. What you knew you were always meant for, what you exist to do and be, but almost lost hope, had almost convinced yourself it was lunacy, gave up. And aren’t you so glad you didn’t?