One Thing

Back in my first blog, I said that this was going to be my "cooking diary" or something along those lines. Or at least it would be until I got back in the groove of writing. If you look back at the last two and a half months in my archive you will find one (1) entry.

Oops.

I did cook/bake up a storm though. Just never got around to writing much. I'm slowly sinking back into the feel of writing with purpose. It seems I'm into snippets of ideas at the moment, so what follows is one of those.

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I hate it when people describe one single aspect of their lives as their reason for being. To me, it’s the most foolish of things . It’s foolish because at some point in your life, everything will fail you. So music is your life, is it? It gives you comfort, does it? It’ll fail you someday. Writing is your passion, huh? You say it invigorates you? Someday it will drain you. Your family keeps you going? Your loved ones warm your heart until you feel it’s ready to burst with all the caring and joy you’ve received from them? One day they will drag you down into a faithless and forlorn depth. There will come a time when that piece of your life that you tend to so dearly, like keeping a flame kindled and burning, will be blown out and you will be left to your thoughts in the ensuing darkness.

Whatdoyoudothen.

The one thing you poured your heart into is gone. It left no tracks, no shadow, no note saying when it will be back. It’s just GONE.

One morning or afternoon or twilit evening you’ll make this upsetting, horrifying discovery. You’ll go to turn on your Ipod or jot down a quick story or have a talk with your mom and you find that what once lifted your spirits, made you feel important or gifted, maybe even gave you solace, is no more. It leaves you with a gaping, unfulfilled pit in your chest.

Whatdoyoudothen.

The one thing you found the most meaning in is gone. The one thing that actually meant something to you is gone. Your reason for living is gone, gone gone. What’s almost worse (Hell, it’s a mockery) is that you still possess the Ipod or the pen and paper or the loved one. But there’s no MEANING. They don’t reach into your soul and grab it with a twisting hand, jerk hard and leave you breathless and wondering how something could be so potent, so omniscient that it can, in and of itself, put you on your knees. You’re not left happy, as you once were.

You feel lost, adrift, a pendulum swinging aimlessly without direction while time seems to speed up yet stand still. It’s a shock to the mind and heart, when something as easy as peace in the soul becomes hard to find. And it shouldn’t be. Peace, love, joy; these things should NEVER be hard to find. And where do you even begin to look for them after they’ve been lost? Gone from the place you kept them, and vanished into the shallow air.

Whatdoyoudothen.

Maybe if you just continue on with your one thing, your music or writing or family, the warm and lovely feelings will return. And how long will it take you before you finally give up and accept the conclusion that what you’re doing is meaningless and empty? How long until the last tendrils of hope shrivel up and die within you? When will you start to think that, since what you do is meaningless, then maybe…you’re meaningless, too? Maybe you’re empty?

What a thought. What a horrible, depressing, and curiously illuminating thought. You’ve never thought of yourself in nihilistic terms before, but now…You draw no warmth from anything. If surrounded by beauty, you feel it barely ghosting by you. In the midst of friends and kin, of their easy laughter, you’re alone and lost in the shuffle. Is your existence fruitful? Does it mean anything? If not, then what are you doing here?

How long has it been now? A month, maybe three, five, eight, a year? And how many of those days were spent in tired confusion, praying for an end to the tunnel you’ve found yourself in? When will the light shine through, leaving you to blink your eyes in the splendid shine of a new beginning? When will this nightmare end and when will the dreamscape come to whisk you away with a whisper of wings?

What do you do now?

What do you do? You wait. That’s all you can do. Peace and joy, like love, will never be found when actively sought.

Never depend on one thing or one person to catch you before you hit the ground, because when it comes right down to it, you’ll probably face plant on the concrete.