Friday, March 27, 2015

The Current

When you are in the thick of things, it's hard to see beyond what is happening.   When you just live each day, doing what needs to be done, the subtleties of life get lost on you.  Probably because your focus is elsewhere.

It hasn't been a bad week.  It's been okay.  There were some uncomfortable moments but for the most part, I would say, I 'endured it well.' as the old saying goes.  We actually had some pleasant moments, moments when I felt somewhat normal.  Basically, I have felt to have been in a good place.

This morning, I met with a friend to help her with a remodeling project she is doing.  We don't talk a lot but when we run into each other every few months, we just pick up where we left off.  We usually do a ton of laughing because she is awesome like that!  Their whole family is awesome and our boys are friends and both serving missions.

We enjoyed our usual good time together.  Working on plans and laughing some.  When I was getting ready to leave, she said, "Are you okay...really?"

"Ya.  I'm good."  I replied, even cheerfully, you know, with just the right amount of falsetto but not too much.  Actually, it came quite naturally even.  It was an honest statement for the moment; the week.

"You seem really sad. Something is not right."  She said in return.

It caught me off guard a little.  I have never felt I carry around a weight of sadness where ever I go.  I feel like I really do make the most of each day and try to find happiness no matter what is happening.
But, as I paused for a minute to take a quick inventory of whatever was happening inside of me, I could feel that uneasy sadness floating just below the surface tension of getting through the day.

Like most currents that can carry you away before you know it, there is the current of grief.  Today wasn't the first time I have felt this undertow of something less than desirable in my life but it's the first time I wanted to give words to it.

My days have become very much an exercise in paddling my way through.  I can't touch the bottom of this and if I quit, I'll surely drowned so, I paddle away, like mad, with my head above the level of the current feelings that can drag me under. I can be whatever I need to be, even do whatever I need to do, but it may not always be enough to mask the very thing tugging me closer to the bottom.  It may not be enough to move me forward, pushing me to the next thing. If I had it my way, time would stand still.  It would stop.  I don't want to arrive at whatever is coming next; good or bad!  I just want to stand here, still.  I know this place. I don't love this place, but it is at least familiar.

The undercurrent of feelings and emotions does move me whether I like it or not.  That's what currents do, they move.  The challenge comes in fighting the current and exhausting yourself or letting it carry you to the next place of learning, the next place of understanding, the next big thing.

I feel like physically, I have more choices to take my day where I want it to go.  But it's the current below  that ultimately has it's say.

I've decided that it is somewhere in this current where the most overwhelming fatigue resides. I think that explains my eternal battle with tired, heavy eyes, regardless of the number of hours I snatch throughout the night to rest them.

It's somewhere in this current where acceptance can be found, though it is not a treasure I have uncovered in it's boggy bottoms yet.

In this current is something that resembles congruence.  Maybe the fatigue comes from trying to live a life that isn't exactly lined up with what the Universe is bringing to the table.   Is the secret, living in the current state of whatever it is?  Is the current where I need to spend more time?  But what if it's always the current of grief?  That heavy, sadness that you can never escape...

I don't have the answers.  For now, I will continue to live with my head above the current and continue to kick against the questions til I get a little closer to discovering the mysteries life has brought.


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