the things i can write about: the universe conspires

there is much i do not– i cannot–write about. several years ago i made a commitment to myself regarding this blog. i told myself that every word i put up here, i would do it for me. i wouldn’t do it for the readers (how ever many or few there are), i wouldn’t do it for those i wrote about, i would intend nothing of my posts, save for being posts i wrote for myself.

making that choice wasn’t too hard. i knew what i was signed on for. i knew i’d have my vulnerabilities out for show, out for comment, out for criticism. and i decided to accept it all.  what i didn’t know this decision would do was prevent me from writing about so many things.

it’s one thing to ramble about something i saw on the street, it’s another to put my wounds into words, to allow myself to be seen through my eyes as i construct sentences. so there is much that remains unsaid. there are hurts and tears and struggles and fears that are lost in drafts, mostly lost in thoughts.

so what can i–what do i–actually write about? this and that. bits and pieces. important things and not so important things.

i have felt a silence on this blog that has been echoing in my head for many months. yes there are words i put up, but they feel restrained, restricted. like i’ve been using words to hide the things i cannot say. there are still many things i do not think i could resign to being posted here. my hope is one day, with the gift of 20/20 hindsight i’ll be able to reflect on ongoing situations with good humor and the gift of understanding that comes with time. until then, there are other things.

today, i’ve had many thoughts, i’ve shared a good lot to S at work. sweet sweet sweet S who is a daily reminder of the best of what humanity can be. earnest. humble. open. and kind. so so kind. S has listened, she has listened well, she has allowed me to regain my sense of peace. and this peace, this moment of calm i feel in an otherwise chaotic place, is a reminder that the universe conspires.

i do not much care if your credit the universe or if you know the universe as God, it is what it is and i am eager to submit to all of it. this presence. this sense of divine. this thought, idea, concept, that is so beyond our understanding. i make another human effort to glimpse at the bigger picture. and for the most part, what i see is good. what i see is the possibility of good beyond all the darkness and horror of humanity.

i think of the hurts, of the sufferings. i think of injustice, i think of rape, i think of abuse. i think of the wounds of my soul, the scars of my heart, the pains in my head. and i know how hard it is to see good. how hard it is to believe in good.

i think about those hurtful, hateful, horrible words i stumbled upon last night and i know “good” is much further away when blurred by tears. i know. i know the pain. i own the pain.

and yet, what story actually ever ends? what tale is truly, utterly, “complete”. even in death the story goes on, it will move, and so it is, so the universe is conspiring. and so, i’m trying to understanding everything in the much larger context. not just of my individual experience, but within the revelation of history, the expanding of space, and the ultimate mystery of the divine.

it is a heavy task. it comes with many thoughts, many complications, and ultimately there are black holes i cannot see into or get around. but i am learning, slowly, that it is well with my soul.

being “well” doesn’t mean being fixed. it doesn’t mean being healed. there are many more tears i have to shed. there are many hurts that continue to be repressed. no, the wellness of my soul doesn’t come from exploring every splinter i have endured. the wellness comes from knowing there is so much out there beyond me. that there is great joy in a cup of tea, a blade of grass, in a hug you didn’t think you’d be getting.

the wellness of my soul lies in accepting the universe as it gives itself to me…good one day, bad another maybe…but always giving. the wellness comes from 1 hour conversations on the phone where i cried across countries, and where i was heard, and i was heard because i am cared for. i am cared for in so many places by so many people, and each person has been designed for me. and i for them. so i am well.

i am well knowing things i don’t like lay ahead. i am well knowing i dread the confrontations that are being orchestrated without my trying. i am well despite knowing that i have a plan to remove myself from this world should it ever come to that. i am well, to know, that even when it feels like love was lost…there was so much i gained.

i am well to be human, to be flawed, to still be learning. i am still a rather broken soul, but being well is more than i had once hoped for.

and one day, i’ll write about all of it.





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