As I sit at my laptop and write my stuff, my reflections on this life as a woman, I learn a lot myself. Unfolding scenarios unfold to finger their way into my own ordinary thoughts where my mind seeks to develop and research them. I am curious by nature and there are times I wonder how I knew I was thinking about this or that when all I did was to sit down, lift my hands to the keyboard and begin. I feel like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, wondering, a bit fearful but mostly curious.
The things I write about are commonplace, regardless of individual settings and circumstances. How each of us live may be chalk to cheese but the deep inside of a mind, the way we feel is generic. Each of will respond according to our circumstances, our expectations, our dreams, our brokenness, but that is where our individuality steps up to the bar. We are all lost at times and in those times there is always someone around who isn’t and who can lift a failing spirit. Some days I am the one lifting, some days being lifted. I used to think, and have heard others say, that at my age, whatever age that is, I should know this and therefore have no excuse for my faltering. This is a great untruth. Faltering is part of each one of us and it never stops, not till the last breath, for we all live with fear and questions. We expect ourselves to ‘get it’ and from then on to ride like Freedom across vast spans of safe ground. This is a myth. There is no safe ground. But there are others around us, all doing what we do, making a go of life, all doing our very best, learning and curious to find answers to a gazillion questions, the answers to which are like smoke in a hurricane. The sea keeps clawing at the shore. She has done so for centuries and she will never cease as long as she has salty breath. We do the same, reaching out our fingers for the answers to life and it seems we will never stop either. No matter what we teach our children, no matter how deeply we study, there is that answer that consistently evades us.
So, we accept Lukewarm and keep trudging. And despite feeling rather beige in her arms we can rest in the calm she offers. Nobody lives long who cannot rest in Lukewarm at times. No work of art is believable if all the colours are crazy loud. And that’s what we all are. Works of art. Individual, unique, a perfect design and there are no copies made. Therein lies a responsibility and oodles of opportunity. The life we have been given is the only one in which we can fly, the only one that will ever be ours to alter or to change completely. All of us feel trapped at times, laden down by the expectations of others, childhood lessons, circumstances, worldly pressure and just plain exhaustion but not one of us is really trapped at all. We might not be immediately able to alter or change things but we can be curious enough to think about what we can do. It may mean one tiny step, and then another, but that’s how you climb a mountain or traverse a desert. That is how you move away and move toward.
It’s not in the answer that understanding lies, but in the question.