There's always hope, petals, and even though there is so much to do, and the thought of it might floor you, you do have the strength. You do. Color helps. Music helps. The people who love you unconditionally help.
None of us go out there intending to make a mistake. We make choices based on the information we have and with the best intentions for our own well-being.
Sometimes it works out, and sometimes it doesn't. It's that second outcome--the 'doesn't' bit that throws us for a loop, that signals to our already-over-sensitive conscious that we *should* have known, we *should* have had some kind of intuition, or if we had just thought things through a little harder, a little more thoroughly, a little more holistically, that we'd have reached a different conclusion.
Well, we can hypothesize and rehash all we like, but not only does it change nothing, it doesn't make us feel better and it's a fruitless exercise in needless self-harm. We couldn't have known better. If we had, things would have been different. It's so hard. Life can be so hard, petals--but we do the best we can with the information we have. We do. We have good hearts; we have good intentions, but sometimes the world has other plans...
I can remember asking for signs, for guidance, for as long as I can remember, lying in the woods as a little kid, looking up at the sky and the branches and begging for an answer, a direction, an indication that I should do this, not that, or that I was following the right path. I never received an answer, and I've never trusted my own ability to make a decision that serves my highest good. Perhaps those things are related. Perhaps it's all a matter of trust.
Nonetheless, I find myself still asking, still looking, still pleading for a sign, for an indication because I don't seem to have the ability to read my own heart, to know what will bring me joy in this world. I've been a seeker for so long, and I'm still seeking. I'm dying to put this pack down, but when I do, the weight isn't lifted. It's intensified. So I keep walking, keep hoping that the right place will be so obvious, I wondered why I ever considered stopping anywhere else.
The Satyas have been short lately and, I fear, probably none too eloquent nor particularly helpful, either for myself or for this marvelous community of fellow seekers. But sometimes, I think, we're in a place where energy must be conserved. Brevity seems a good way forward in such cases.
This is one of those mornings. So, for now, I'll look for the light.
I don't really know what to say about belief, except that it's hard to know if you're in the right place or the right time without it. It's like being in the middle of a storm, lost, not knowing if you're stumbling deeper to its source, or out into shelter. Maybe the only thing to do is hunker down and wait for it to pass? But then afterward, the landscape is so unrecognizable that finding your path home can be just as challenging.
Oh, to have a divine compass always pointing you home toward true north.
I've been frozen for so long, I doubt I'd notice if my feet became unstuck. I suspect that there are too many of us held in this same kind of suspension, unaware that we could move even if we got up the courage to try.
It can feel shameful, this fear, as we watch others carrying on, seemingly unaffected. But I think we have to talk about it, and we have to talk about it in a way that doesn't belittle us, that doesn't make us ashamed for how we were made in this world, and--finally--in a way that makes us proud to have a voice we're *not afraid* to use in the first place.
It's so hard to show up, to be present, when you're unsure, self-conscious, anxious because there are a million things going on in your private life over which you have no control, but still--STILL! You have to show up and smile and be competent and social and it's so very hard, petals. I know it's so very hard.
And I wish I had an answer--for me, for all of us--but I don't. So, instead, together, we'll keep breathing. We'll keep carrying our talismans in our pockets and hope and will and believe that one day soon--this year; why not?--we'll wake up without needing the pep talk, without needing the talisman, without the overwhelming desire to stay hidden and safe and secret. Soon we'll see progress.
It's when all that trying, all that saving, all that working and working and working amount, seemingly, to nothing more but more trying, more working, and, in the end, little saved, that one begins to get just a bit tired of the whole game.
Sometimes, yes, it's very easy (too easy) to believe this game was rigged before we even took to the field.