My Cup Runneth Over
Life is a continuation, a never-ending circle. Like the journey of the Sun, I travel forward, always forward, always progressing, if only by baby steps. Yet it is still forward. The wind weathers my face, my heart, my soul, my pain, my happiness, my loneliness, but brings with it equal tides of comfort… to counter the pain. The pain serves as a reminder to bask in the rays of pleasure, to soak in the beauty around me, to take the time for the little things and to appreciate them… but it also thickens my walls. Behind these walls of stone grows my heart and soul, a delicate flower that very few anymore get to see, protected from the elements of this Life and, sadly I think, the next. In the environment of our lives, the seasons come and go, friends come and go, happiness comes and goes, as does sadness and loneliness, but not love. It sits there, like a rock in my heart. And I sit back and try to make sense of it all. Thumbing through the book that is my life, I browse the chapters, some neatly closed, others leaving the readers hanging, leaving me hanging, thoughts and sentences incomplete… yet others are tied with a neat little bow. The chapters of this thick and battered book are not sequential; some blend into others… the more impressionable ones do, the ones that leave the deepest marks. My life is not what I would have dreamed it to be, my childhood visions tainted by what we are told should and shouldn’t be, and then reality sets in. Now, it seems a little distorted, like looking at the reflection of that foretold life through a carnival mirror. Prince Charming is not so charming, your heroes fall, your dreams shatter, the rug yanked out from beneath your feet… the road with its bumps, road blocks, and detours… create a harder person… more determined, more jaded. Is the glass half empty? Or half full? I believe Life says just drink it up, soak it up, and it won’t really matter any more, will it? I wonder if I were to leave this place today, what impressions upon life will I have made? Good ones? Bad ones? Life has its way of reminding one of her mortality. I reflect on friends that have passed on, and I am reminded that you never quite realize the mark someone has left on you until they are gone, even when you rejoice in them every day of your lives together. I think of each and every one of them, and a tear slides down my cheek as my heart swells with the love I have even today for each and every one of them, never diminished.
Who exactly am I? Can you answer this question? In the past 2 years, I have searched myself and analyzed my findings with grand scrutiny, using many different tools. Now, when I say or write something, I sit back and tear it apart. One that has received the most attention as of late is what do I mean when I really say that I love? I cannot help but refer to the famous verse:
In the last 4 months, I have really attacked this verse and tore it apart, piece by piece, word by word, and in turn tore apart my own actions, my thoughts, my words, to see where I can improve. Patience is always a work in progress, is it not? (laughs softly) Indeed. But it is a concept that gets exercised quite regularly. It is not proud? What exactly does that mean? I have some ideas, but haven’t found the exact solution that fits into that hole neatly. Any ideas? The one that I have not been so diligent about has received the most intense overhaul: “It keeps no record of wrongs.” I recently featured a piece of work that was sent to me about forgiveness. And it really reflects my outlook on this life. The piece featured the wind wiping the memories of the wrongs from the person’s life. I also think of a river, and tossing those memories of the wrongs into the water, and watching them float away. I while I sit here and reflect on the Tarnishing of His Jewel, I don’t think I will delete it, purely for the sake that it is a defining chapter, but not for the memories of pain, but a reflection of a twist in the road. You see, it happened. And that, with everything else that was painful, was placed in a box during contemplation. I have dumped the contents of that box into the river, and they are gone. Anger never arose, simply loss, love, and concern. The records washed on down the river, as I have done with all the people that I love. And when I think of that someone, and I cry, it’s not in memory of the pain that was caused, it’s pain from the love I pour out that simply disappears into a void, and from that hole in my heart where they used to be. My most precious commodities are my love and my time, after all. And while you read, you may, in your mind, be applying this to one person in particular of my immediate past, but this thought blankets everyone… Neil, Bo, Cheri, Stephen, Debbie, Randall, for example… not just Sal. Not just one. We are all human, after all, we all have caused pain, even unintentional. I love. And I must protect my two most precious resources: Love and Time. Tick Tock Tick Tock. The spring inside swells and gurgles, and my cup runneth over the rim of my soul.
The book closes with a little cloud of dust, and I turn to face another day. No, I am not depressed, but am so very overwhelmingly full of life and emotion today. I so very much want to reach out to the ones that I love and just hold them tight and tell them that I love them… but they are all so far away. So I climb up on that metaphoric mountain and yell to the winds “I love you!! And I miss you, all of you that belong in my heart!!” Perhaps they will hear… or feel. And perhaps it will better their day.
Listening to “Thank-you” by Dido Feeling a little overwelmed