Where Am I?

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.

 

I am the person behind the words printed here. I write because my heart will not allow me the option of NOT writing. It has taken me half a life time to discover this basic truth, but now that I have, writing is as natural as breathing. This is where my breath takes the form of words.

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The Miracle Morning: The Not-So-Obvious Secret Guaranteed to Transform Your Life (Before 8AM)
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