Though the past year has been full of personal successes, it has felt quite heavy. Heavy with the weight of emotion. I have been unable to put words down often and yet they churn inside of me constantly. My opinions and my feelings are constantly boiling and when they come out through my voice they seem messy, like overcooking rice that leaves a gross residue on the stove.
I rarely write, but when I do, the feelings and the opinions seem more like cooking properly. There’s less of a mess as I form my words carefully and read over them to ensure they are cooked just right.
So here I am, back on this blog I pay for annually but continually abandon as daily life seems to demand more and more. I can’t rid of myself of this online journal I’ve decided to keep because I don’t want to lose what’s already been stored here, nor do I want to give up that one day I would like to get back to visiting more often…
I’m not quite sure if the year itself has been full of turmoil (certainly many love to blame “2020” and it has become the butt of many jokes) or if I have merely entered a season of life where it’s easier to see corruption and devastation.
Was 2020 really the year the whole world went to shit, or did I (and others) just finally get so close we couldn’t help but smell it?
I have felt overwhelmed with emotion as the events have unfolded – even as we’ve entered 2021. SO much hate, so much division, so much conflict. Is there even a thing I can do to make a positive difference? That question is heavy and without an answer, I feel crushed by the weight of it. The emotions storm in. I am still. I am unable to do anything, nonetheless something good.
But amidst the chaos I strike a conversation with my aunt. It feels like staring at a very, very tall wall. But each sentence is a step and before I know it we have each scaled our own side. We sit at the top together, staring at the horizon.
I tell her how my emotions seem daunting, but that from the top of this wall they look more like steps: like a connection to spirituality, a tie to our soul itself, a way to talk to God.
I’d never thought of them that way until that moment. I guess that’s what can happen when we climb high enough to see things differently.
We will have to climb more walls – me and my aunt and many others – but maybe the steps will become easier and easier, like getting in shape. Maybe we’ll spend more and more time looking at the horizon.