Linda said the sun is always shining behind the clouds. We can’t see it under a gray sky, but it’s as glorious as ever. She said that at 1am, along with other comforting words and scriptures. Thought I was done calling people in the middle of the night.
I’m under clouds again. My boots are soaked with snowy gunk and the trees lift weary arms full of snow. Everywhere I look there are shadows and shades. I’m not just talking about January weather. My dreams left my brain rattled this morning and my afternoon did not comfort me. Slowly and steadily I have submerged into a mix of mirth and fear. Yes, both.
It starts with seeing the light, losing hold of it, and then desperately trying to find it again. The twinkle of the lure baits me into ever deepening waters. Then it’s madness, struggle and being pulled helplessly through the leagues.
Why can’t I just? But it’s not me. It’s not me anymore. It’s beyond what I do and don’t do. It’s beyond who I am. When something’s pulling on me, it’s counter-intuitive not to struggle. Yet rest I must.