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Perspective

It’s no secret that I’ve been clinging to 2012 with the undersides of my fingernails. Each time the ground feels flat, the rug gets pulled out.

At any rate, I’ve learned to stay on my knees where I belong.

Dreaming in first person is said to be rare, and I guess most people dream in third, where we watch ourselves from the outside. But for so long now, my dreams have been omniscient. I’m still on the outside looking in, but I feel all of the thoughts and joys and heartaches from whatever characters that night’s episode holds.

I wake up exhausted.

Sometimes, there’s no good in closing your eyes. 2010. 2011. January, February, March, April, May. The slideshow plays and you lose your body and your individuality. You lose your truth, your beauty, your reality. In that moment, everything melts together — colors and sweat and sounds, facial expressions, memories. It’s you against the loudspeakers. And it chokes your heart and it cracks your voice and your wrists ache with the weight of a world carried in too-small buckets.

(…and then you start writing in the second person because you can’t face writing it in first.)

No, no. I choose to keep my eyes open and to keep searching. There is so much in this life that, even a glimpse at a time, helps me breathe steady and find strength to fight. I made a promise long ago not to harden my heart against the world, to always find the simple beauty and goodness that I have to believe comes innately to most people. I’m choosing to keep that, too.

My truth is that I have a grateful heart and two strong hands. My beauty is that I have people. Do I ever have people. They have come out of the woodwork to act as my backbone. I can’t deny divine intervention. And above all, my reality is that the entire universe as I know it sleeps soundly just down the hall, and he’s got his mama’s eyes. There’s no dream that can best that.

I am more complete now than I ever have been. I am more thankful now than I have ever been. Today, I have more than I have ever had. I’ve tasted what I’m made of, and I like it.

I’m learning. I’m thinking about trial and purpose in new ways.  I have found peace of mind acknowledging that humanity, in all of its infinite sin, was created in order for infinite love to be demonstrated. Otherwise, what else have we got?

I wonder how long the last chapter of my story can be.

“The rain to the wind said,
You push and I’ll pelt.’
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged–though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.”
― Robert Frost

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