Stay Tuned for Scenes
How does one begin to heal from the batterings of everyday? How does one rise above it? Can I continue to look in the mirror each morning and grin despite my lack of self-assurance? A matter of humility. A matter of constancy. Day in and day out.
Someone said to me just this past evening: Everyone of us has a right to claim, “They can’t understand me and my struggles. No one has suffered in the same way that I have.” Perhaps in a strange way that can bolster us up. Or we can say individuality is such a constant curse; no other human person will understand us and it’s true for many — I can say especially for myself — that we barely understand ourselves. Is understanding so vital? Does it bring peace?
So… sufferings, longings, moments of joy and years of patience. Of waiting. Decades spanning the horizon of — just making it through one day at a time — doggedly but with hope. This is a kind of stubborn hope, wherein the wearisome and heartsore stuff of life is made to fly under the radar, just barely in one’s peripheral vision; there, but not named. Not spoken out loud.
Poignant. Bitter. Striving.
