Monday, April 11, 2011
In her comment to the previous post, Denise saw our blog-writing brethren mirroring Quixote, donkeys as transport, windmills awaiting. As I read her words and composed my reply, I wished one of two things: that I was always courageous or that I had a true notion of what courage I possess and could feel sufficient with that.
As my thoughts ramble and weave during the day, it can seem as though the number of things which I need to learn and to unlearn are not equal; by far the weightier assignment is the undoing of false notions and distorted images.
Balance-seeking may well burn up energies that could be used more productively. But it is who I am and not likely to change. We have our priorities, which seem to have chosen us and not the reverse. If there are assigned parts in this cosmic drama, I am well to the back, stage left, thankfully not blindfolded, like justice, but wobbling as I try to make it all come out even. Which means, when the juggling doesn't get the job done, one must begin the mental weighing. How do we find light to equal the dark, identify gifts received that are comparable to the losses. Can we find a way to see what we have as enough without telling ourselves lies?
I am fortunate in this moment for these questions relate to my own internal process and are not asked because I have enormous, exterior world matters to try and resolve. But even they demand attention, without which I will sink beneath misinterpretation, assuming my less-appealing qualities are the real and only ones.
My family tree produced the stoic and reliable, as well as the twitchy and fragile. Who would have guessed the jumpy genes were dominant? Which causes me to wonder how much uncertainty swirled beneath those seemingly firm exteriors. Perhaps we are all committed to the unending work of steadying the rocking boats of self; some with more bravado than others.