existentialysis

white egrets on their nightly flight over our house

Do you ever wish things were other than they are? I too indulge in this fantastical ruminating more than I’ll generally admit. And I should know better. Some days are so fraught with difficulty, I must force myself to look outside and acknowledge that the day is simply a day: the sun rises and sets, expanses of field go green and brown in their turn, the celestial-hued ocean bucks and rolls. Fish swim, birds fly.

Mauna Kea Beach, Hawaii Island

If I suffer from the delusion that I can force outer circumstances to adapt to my whimsical notion of how they ought to be, it’s clearly my choice. Liberation from the pain of this false knowing is likewise self generated.

All my education, age and experience have brought me back to the most facile of conclusions. Tomorrow is another day. (Have I really spent nearly sixty years developing my mental faculties in order to simply return to childhood platitudes?) Yet if my mind keeps gnawing at the same sapid bone, a nighttime’s slumber relaxes the jaw enough that I must at least let it drop for a spell. Upon awakening and the gods willing, I might forget where I left it long enough to garner a bit of perspective.

Thrill is more enviable than defeat, though it is surely the latter which has shaped my character, granted me the reserves of strength with which I am presently endowed. Experience enough adversity and one gleans awareness that it will eventually be overcome. This can truly bolster a sense of self esteem, if allowed. An unexpected benefit? Challenges can help us cultivate the virtue of patience, if it is not already indigenous to the personality.

After a lifetime of people pleasing and other mythical adventures, I’m finally comfortable in my own skin. Now that there is consistency down to my bones, I can resonate back to myself like a finely struck cello. A realization fans out before me like a flashlight slicing its beam through the dark of a country evening: there is rhythm and purpose in these cycles of ups and downs. No matter what the locus on life’s timeline, there is point to counterpoint. The dots simply shift to other maps as I cruise along.

I may not ever have the answers to what life’s all about, but if there is an answer, I suspect it’s something most primary school kids understand: To have fun while we’re learning. To take breaks on the playground. To carve our initials in the tree of life.

image: Gustav Klimt