Paradox, Humor and Change.
There comes a time, in life.
To pull on your coat, go outside.
To taste the vinegar of life, bitter life.
To taste the second time, the sweet surprise.
- Glen Phillips
Tumultuous, vivid, sensitive, pain, love, grief, humility.
It is difficult to see when we sabotage the very things we yearn for. The best things, the very crux of happiness is being laid before you and you're suspended, precariously, yet willing to dive in. Fear and pain are tendrils of a smoky past that garner no comfort other than they are familiar and persistent. But this comfort is paid with the currency of dark minting.
The paradox here in this presence of mind is that as a human being, hopefully, there is a need for happiness, comfort and self realization. Yet at the same time you are gripped in terror. Sometimes thoughts of worthiness and pessimism well up and drench you. At the very moment when you hold the delicate flower, barely budded, you question its beauty, its honesty. Before the fruition of ground sown with good intentions has a chance to bloom you find yourself tilling the earth with salt.
Reasoning, logic and all the trappings gathered in an adult life are of no use here. Another paradox: At the moment we set our designs on matters of feeling, love and heart those tools, which we rely on the most, are not applicable. For some of us we find that the crafting requires dusty implements which have lain long dormant and damaged. Clumsy, misunderstood, user's manual: non-existent. We doubt it's even the right tool for the job.
If left to the devices of logic and reason alone, then caring becomes robotic, love becomes a job: a problem to be solved. Love is not logical; No Spock here. You can calculate a risk, but as soon as you calculate the probability of success, you have also calculated and quantified failure. Good when you're a rocket scientist or business owner, not when you're dealing with the heart.
Humor can be recognizing the paradox. That we bang and cry and twist against the wind and curse or luck, parents, boss, lover: When we closely scrutinize the tantrums and diatribes of trying to put together a piece of Ikea furniture. Or when we realize the futility of trying to change yourself when you don't know what the problem is: That you can't change someone else because they like American Idol. Or if they don't trust you not to be exactly like everyone else who came before them.
Not surprising, still I find
I'm shaking, crying
But I'm laughing, softly
Sappiness is a sweet wine when shared with the closest friends. Some of you don't know me well, or not at all. Some of you are the best people I know, close friends, perpetual.
We can all look at each other and know that we've been on a pilgrimage of life and have more in common that we thought possible. We repeat mistakes. We yearn for understanding. Maybe we hope to be a better person. Maybe we didn't tell their loved one that when they were 15 and some assholes stole your leather jacket and that person was willing to go with you and get that jacket back at their own risk because they saw the pain welling, that you affected them.
Change can take form only within the womb of self. It won't be easy, nor should it. You may need help; this is not a solo endeavor.
However, even after all the cold mistakes, the passionate tirades and good intentions run out and you're left contemplating the futility of why your made or didn't make the leap off the precipice of commitment or friendship or love or perhaps why they didn't stand up for love and left the dream there with you, ashen, parched and removed it. It was all real, maybe for all parties involved, maybe just for you, but it doesn't cheapen the value. Its hard to remember that diamonds are not created over night and that warm, resilient gem of fidelity is still worth the search.
Every moment: It is all worth it. But only if you were awake when it happened.
