Perhaps I am stronger than I think. Perhaps I am afraid of my own strength and turn it against myself to make myself weak. Perhaps I am most afraid of the strength of God in me.
Thomas Merton
I struggle with this. Who am I to think I have something to give the world? Who am I to think I don’t?
Don’t you; struggle with it?
No?
What does that feel like…..?
Today I did some good work. When I do good work I feel I have succeeded, I have accomplished something, I can tick a box on the to do list and feel the satisfaction of seeing the leaves raked or the door rehung (yup, I do it), or the wash washed or the rooms reset.
But what of when there is doing that has no box to tick, and I still need that satisfaction-hit of seeing a task ticked?
What of the work that is showing up to a day I’d rather sleep through?
What of the putting pen to paper or brush to canvas when the whole ensemble feels pointless at best; there is no audience nor buyer to connect…
What of the voice in the head that goes off with negative rot and backs it up with positive thinking, only to get tripped up by the quagmire of this stew?
There is a strength that reaches beyond this mess in my head. There is a truth that goes deeper than my desire to not face the day.
I don’t need to listen to plagued voices in my head nor do I need to cover it over with positivity platitudes that have no strength.
I need to simply live into this one more day.
No matter the day.
It is funny to me to realize at 55 (some realize sooner, surely, yes?!) that simply living the life before me, letting things come and go, letting people come and go, letting ideas and experiences, trials and triumphs; letting them all come and go. This is living. This is peace. This is the harmony of not just a life but also the days and the hours that make up a life.
This is in the end, the greatest beauty I can create, to simply live the life that is mine, not pulling punches on efforts, but also not running a rut in the mud with too much force of will.
Simple. Profound. Both.
in love.
trish