Trying to make sense of one’s life by way of reflection is sometimes heartbreaking. You can’t go back and change a single thing. The only thing we ever have is the moment we’re in. Presently. Some days, like today, I feel like such an incredible failure. I can’t think of a single choice that if I could go back and change that I would. The cards were dealt and I played my hand the way it made sense for me to do at the time. I’ve lived by my heart.
Living by one’s heart is the most raw expression of life experience one could ever have. It’s like walking around with a gaping wound every single day. People poke at it. Stick their fingers in it. They taunt. They tease. Or worse, because they misunderstand, they simply ignore you. You may see things as clear as through freshly cleaned glass. But when you are an army of one, you can often times be deemed unimportant, powerless and dare I say, silly.
I’ve always dreamed big. I’ve always seen a picture far bigger than any I could possibly paint by myself. And yet, I’ve had to pick up my brush and stroke this canvas every day, often times by myself. Especially when explaining myself got really, really old. When people don’t get you instinctively or by extended exposure, it’s just very draining.
I look at all that I am inside and out and wonder. Shouldn’t I be somewhere else? Shouldn’t I be more? Apparently not. Because where I am in this moment is where I am. If I were supposed to be somewhere else, doing something else, wouldn’t I be?
It’s the paradox of life. Wishing for something that can not be attained. You cannot be anywhere but where you are already. You can move to be somewhere else, but even then we live from present moment to present moment. Future does not exist in reality. Nor does the past. The past lives on in our imagination. Only.
The greater paradox for me is that I am a creator. And I am sleepy. Whatever I am seraching for today will not be found. Not in this moment at least. So, I’ll go to bed.