Last week went by so quickly, I can’t believe it’s Saturday already. What happened? Where am I? I feel like a leaf that is dropped in a raging river. Time carries me. I struggle to comprehend where I am in relation to myself. The tree that I fell from is home. This river is not. I feel like I don’t belong here. Where am I?
While struggling atop the crazy, rapid waters, I realize that my life is missing its center. I need to schedule time for solitude, prayer, time to think. To do so feels like I’d have to swim against the current. I often stop before I begin. It’s an idea that kills itself because I allow it out of confinement. This is too much responsibility. Easier to feel adrift that to grab a twig and start rowing.
Chaos feels familiar. It is what I see but what I see is limited by my clinging to a perspective that is not serving me. Fatigue and confusion wash over me like water. I sink. There under the water I look up at the chaos above. The edges of chaos are soft. The water in my ears muffs the sounds. I could get used to this.
Tears spring to my eyes when I realize that my reaction, my perspective is what is causing me pain. My life is full and busy. My days often productive but I take little satisfaction. I’m too busy seeing all that is not, all that I am not. It tries to choke the joy out of my life. I’m not a squirrel in a cage racing around a wheel but I’ve felt like one. I’m a flamboyant dancer whose heart and soul is lost in the dance if only I shift my perspective.
Why is this so hard? Why do I cling to all the things that aren’t working? Why am I so stubborn? Why is a life of joy so suspect?
In a moment of clarity, I see that so many people and structures in life work against joy. Happiness, satisfaction is a choice. Every day, countless times a day, I stand at a crossroads. I can choose which path I take: abundance or scarcity, joy or sorrow, anger or empathy, fear or courage. I know where I am. I hear the music and I begin to dance.