It's striking to me how relentlessly life can seem a struggle, cycles of feeling thwarted, lost, adrift in doubt and negativity. In truth, though, flooded in all that self-pity, the real world is drowned.
Reality is fairly simple. Yes, there is pain, and dishes to be done. And that to do list looming...But what is to be gained by poking and prodding at each of those details, searching them for meaning or, worse, for a different reality than the one that truly is?
How do I stop playing with misery, knowing that there is more to my relationship with God than supplication? It is not so hard to love myself, or to see how each day is precious, or even to see that joy is somehow fed by my breath. It's easy to see the light bouncing off the faces of those I spend time with, reflections of the curious wonders of life and the delight of sharing them with others.
These are secrets easily known if only I am willing to stop the habit of denying them. And a good weapon for that is realizing how much the negativity bores me, always looking and sounding the same, creating the same predictable outcomes.
But there's a stronger weapon yet: hunger. It's not just a matter of rising above it all, untouched. There is something here, in my human moments, in this body and this life, something that needs tending and transforming. But working at, making it a struggle...that's not the point. What is life if I stop arguing and instead open to my longing, letting it guide me?
What if I stop trying to prove that I'm worth something more, and instead just choose it?
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