As I type these words, I do so with a smile. An authentic one; wide, from ear to ear. Keep that in mind as you go forward, yes? As I write down these thoughts, I do so with a smile.
I like where I'm at right now, all in all. Do you like where you're at in life? I genuinely hope so, because the responsibility of it lies in each and every one of us; to find it in ourselves to embrace the roads we've taken and the places we'll go. But most importantly, to be present, content, in the reality we have built for ourselves.
Picture my journey like this: you've been given a box with a zillion pieces, a puzzle of sorts, or rather several of them to combine. You pick piece after piece; some you like, some you don't. Most of them don't seem to fit, no matter how hard you try. What to do now?
Sometimes, I've pulled a tantrum. Frustration might have taken over a couple of times in the past, and even though I've gotten better at regaining control, sometimes the tantrum wins the struggle and stays around for a while. That's life; trial and error, constant falling in order to have the chance to get up better.
Have you ever witnessed a child's tantrum? Surely you have. I think it's the parents' responsibility and joy to teach their kids how to successfully, healthily manage their emotions; the whole spectrum of them, good and bad, and everything in between. But since our inner growth isn't as exponential as the rate at which we populate the world, most adults don't know how to teach what they haven't even learned yet.
Along with the years passed, a couple of creases, and maybe even some scars, we adults have gained that responsibility. Whether we want to, plan to, or will indeed produce offspring, it's not relevant. We are responsible for our thoughts, actions, emotions, and whatever consequences derive from the concoction of them. At least that's what I think and practice daily. And by practice, I mean failing, but also dusting off and getting up afterward. All with a smile on my face.
So... Back to the puzzle and the pieces that don't fucking fit. I've slammed those pieces against the coffee table so. many. times! Which of course doesn't help, not in the least, but I guess it'd be funny to watch from an outside perspective. Anyway, nowadays I'm more careful with them. Brute force has been relegated to the bottom of the list. Now, I persuade them to shift shapes for me.
Nowadays, I try and take some time to prepare before opening the puzzle box. Every attempt counts, each as important as the next, and so I choose to prepare. First of all, I take a couple of deep breaths. A step that I've found to be the most difficult for me; if I miss this one I might as well don't open the box or I'll unleash the wrath of the gods on innocent folks. We wouldn't want that, so I remind myself to breathe. Deep.
Then, the brain must be filled with a nice, comfortable fog. The one that resembles the lowest clouds as perceived from a mountain top. A sense of coldness, chilly weather, with a few beams of sunlight timidly peaking in. Nothingness. No thoughts swirling around. A blank canvas, at least for one or two seconds. More if you have practice and are able to let go before even holding onto.
The foggy peacefulness inside the mind, ebbing and flowing as thoughts pop up and burst like bubbles. A shy smile appears; a mere curving of lips. A teapot gurgling on the stove. The smell of cinnamon and citric notes lingers in the air. In my chest reverberates the echo of a song I could play forever and ever, over and over again. Such is the scene of the preparation, a prelude that might as well be the main act itself.
It's at this point that I'm ready to invite her in; the child I was. She crosses the doorway as she tiptoes her way around the thresholds and walls we've built, in the past. A frown of concentration as she tries not to stumble. Messy half-bun on the crown of the head. The pretty aquamarine dress she used to want to wear all the time. I invite her in and hold her hand gently when she gets by my side. Welcome home, lil' miss.
We sit cross-legged on the floor, our knees so close they touch. She, the little girl she used to be, and me. In between, there are the pieces. We take them in our hands and, like clay, mould them. Gently, patiently, we try to smooth the edges, and they respond. Piece by piece, everything starts to fall into place. We test combinations, we play with colours and shapes, we struggle a little sometimes. And while we do all that, we do it with a smile.
So yes, all in all, I like where I'm at in life, the journey I'm in. Rocky roads, I don't mind them. Steep hills, I welcome them. Troubles and tribulations, I greet them with a smile. I'd endure whatever might come, just for the sake of experiencing that feeling from time to time. The euphoric yet full of calm sensation...
...of things simply falling into place.
I'd like to thank you for reading this. I hope my words resonated with you in some way. If they did, or even if they didn't, I'd like to further connect with you, so I invite you to drop a comment and I'll answer it as soon as I can.
Sources of the images:
Original 📷 by Ross Sneddon
The other image belongs to me.
