"There's an end and a beginning to this quiet chaos driving me mad." ~Snow Patrol, New York
The countdown has begun. Soon I will step out of the public sector back into the private. The golden handcuffs are being removed. In a sense it brings a rush of fear, but mostly it provides a rush of euphoric excitement encompassed by an image of me diving into a sea of possibility.
At the same time I find myself invited back inside in a way I did not think would exist for me again. It is new and it is exciting and it would not have happened, in my work or personal life, without my stepping away and letting go first.
Still ... sometimes unfavorable things resurface in subtle ways. I remind myself that there is reason to be enlightened of such treason and the walls it creates.
We tend to forget that not all walls are limiting. Some, in fact, hold the greatest works of art our life will ever know. Reminders that are not there to block. Reminders which display the truth of experience and the ingenious tact with which wisdom is designed.
I am the artist of my truth, my wisdom, my experience and I do not intend to forget the pictures I have created along the way. Some of them bolder and louder than others. All of them a reflection of my creation myth.
A myth that started 39 years ago in a different time, in a different place. The history of which has ridden a wave of phenomenally historic change in which I had zero affect in shaping.
I am simply human. Part of a species advancing phenomenally as a whole. If such advancement of a single species to the detriment of so much around it is to be considered a phenomenon. Which, even within my cynicism, I am left feeling it is. Knowing, in the grand scheme of the Universe, the Earth is but a tiny speck of dust, and the human species barely of microscopic consequence.
Yet, at the same time, we are the Universe experiencing itself. We are made of the stars, born of the sun and moon, birthed by an Earth mother that has created the perfect environment in which such a species can thrive. An environment in which we can learn, manipulate, and create through nothing more complex than a simple quiet moment in observance of nature.
It is in those silent moments that I am most grateful. Grateful for the experience becoming absolutely nothing more than a momentary microscopic breathe, on a cosmic speck of floating dust, in the vastness of a Universe I cannot even comprehend a minuscule fraction of, has granted me.
If you are reading this, it most likely granted me you. No matter how briefly or incompletely I have loved and I have been loved. Unabashedly. Luckily. Sometimes even miserably. The Gods themself only know how I have loved and been loved ... and maybe you.