Have you ever come across those people in life whose lives are only just beginning? Maybe they’ve been on this path for quite some time, but have been blind to it. Maybe the world blinded them, or maybe they blinded themselves to the truth. Maybe they just took their first step, or they are coming out of a deep sleep. Maybe they’ve gone through a thousand transitions, or only just a few. There’s a sparkle in their eyes and a crushing, buoyant step. A faltering in their fate that twists and unwinds the future they set.
Well this post is for you, my beautiful mourning doves. You rise in the a.m. to work your dozen jobs while looking around for friendly faces who feel your struggle. You may even rise in the evening from your dozen jobs to begin working yet again as the night dwindles on. You are tired yet your resilience and drive keep you going. You know you are trodding. Trodding onward, neither upward nor downward. Simply onward.
Where is this onward taking you? Someplace grand? Perhaps. Or perhaps.. the future is set in jello, and all the possible plans your miraculous mind concocts snowballs into other plans, ambitions, dreams, and desires. You’re like pudding waiting to be set. Your mind is being molded, your thoughts are not yet your own, and you feel this and know this, yet you do not know how to know yourself.
Maybe you thought you knew who you were for all these years. Maybe you swore that no one could stop you. Maybe you cursed, maybe you screamed, maybe you scratched and kicked your way to this path, but the fight stops now. The denial washes away, and hope takes it’s place. The splendor, the anger, the betrayal, the hate. The love, the joy, the peace, and the pain. You’re transforming, not replacing. You are simply remembering who you are.
Maybe your neighbors have trodded here, and perhaps even your own parents at one time. Everything is felt, yet nothing is known. Only the wind whispering in your ears to go, go, go. You must work, you must sleep, you must eat, play, and drink. You must whine, you must moan, you must laugh, cry, and seek. Your path is pointed onward, and well… Isn’t that what counts?
God no! Of course it isn’t. You desire more than just onwards. You desire upwards growth. You desire peace, stability, and at least a shred of dignity. You desire more than the mundane, more than these monotonous feelings of yesterday. The funny thing is that you already have all these things, all these things in which you seek. When a bird is first born, it has its song from the moment it speaks. Do not worry for this world was molded by men who wish to break you, remake you, mundane you, and turn a profit on your place. Your little, measly, chiseled out place. Although, this may never be deemed fit for you, for me, or even for my dog. Not all of us can fit into that lovely, painted, cramped little box. Not all of us can sacrifice our enjoyment for our profit. Not all of us can sit there being told what to do, what to think. Not all of us know who we are, or what we should be. Maybe, just maybe, we should just be. Be who we were before we believed what we should be.
Don’t rush to grow up. Don’t rush to decide. Don’t fight yourself or try to fit inside society’s little black box. Just continue getting up and doing. Continue questioning. Continue growing, and learning, and shaping. Continue remembering who you are. You are well on your way to shaping your own box.. a box with two open ends. You’ll get there, kid, and so will I. We shall wander through this winding path. You’re awakening, and that’s okay. It’s painful, it’s difficult, it’s trying, and it’s golden. It’s golden like the twilight sun. It sparkles, shines, and speaks of beauty, yet pain. I love those people who begin their awakening. The sparkle in their eyes.. the strangeness they speak.
So do yourself a favor and congratulate yourself. Give a high five for life’s sake. You made it here to this wonderful place where many wish to lie, but few can seek. It’s glorious, superb, positively stupendous, even as it is tiring. Don’t worry though, sleep will come, but you might want to give it a few weeks. Death of yourself is a truly tiring and wondrous feat.