birthday wishes
i'm wistful tonight. it's my birthday. i'm 35. and it's good. i have so much to be thankful for, and i am. without a doubt. but i've also been thinking back on things - memories, hopes, people - and find myself a little lost in thought. a little melancholy. and hopeful too. it's that impossible-to-describe mix of both. i don't know why exactly. some of it's probably just natural brain emotional birthday stuff. and some of it probably has to do with finding out about the death of brendan over the weekend. not sure exactly. but, whatever the cause, i'm a little sad.
i've been thinking a lot about people i love who aren't here. missing them - recalling things i could've and should've done better and more and differently - frustrated by life's apparent "no-do-overs" policy... which is just one of those things that totally and completely sucks, doesn't it? so, i don't know. just the everyday feeling of time passing, i guess? overall, i'm struck by how simultaneously permanent and impermanent everything is. how hard it is to predict, and get it right the first time. and how in so many ways the past feels like a dream that never happened, and yet i'm completely emotionally affected and immersed in the reality and result of it. even now. i guess that's what hurts most of all? for me it is. and that's the part i don't how to face or deal with.
my wise, mature, side totally realizes that moving forward and working and giving our whole selves to reality and the possibility of change is the most important thing. i'm giving my heart to that. and trying. day by day. i'm not giving up. but there's also the parallel truth of regret and ache and longing and just-plain-sadness that pervades, and doesn't go away. it's the unavoidable, inexplicable truth in the process sometimes. can't escape it. i think most of us feel that way. and most of the time we know that good taste or decorum or spin requires us to cover it up and pretend to be ok and balanced and at peace with lots of stuff we're not really balanced or ok or at peace with. funny. maybe that's just life? probably. and maybe that sort of pretending is necessary and important and part of being real and mature and strong and loving? i see that too. it seems true. maybe.
but, within and around what's "ok" or "healthy" or "unhealthy," the truth is always that - as good and strong and ok as we are - we're also human. always. which means broken. and beautiful. and alone, and never alone. all simultaneously. we're all living with that uncertainty - the paradox - the loss of it. and, though some of us feign the opposite, we don't really know what it means. or, definitely not me, anyway! i don't. all of our ideas and beliefs and personas and strengths and weaknesses and talents are left on this side of the equation. and what's on the other side? what happens when we have to let go of all of our trusted illusions? even the healthy, "well-adjusted", ones??? what happens when trust and letting go is all that's left? can we do it? cuz, whenever we talk about doubt or fear or death, i think that's what we're really talking about. real letting go - the uncontrolled kind. the forced kind. it's scary, no doubt. bone scary. because none of us know what it's about. all the rules are new there. and there's nothing of substance i can really say about it, obviously. my words only serve to untie my words. i only feel it. and i suspect you probably know the feeling too. when we get there, faith isn't a choice anymore. it's just a simple, obvious, unavoidable, fact. there's nothing else left.
that's one side. and then there's the truth that i'm endlessly blessed in so many ways i could never fully comprehend. it's one of the perfect mysteries that i can't really grasp or even understand. i see just enough of it to be in awe... i'm struck by how beautiful it is. i don't understand, but i'm thankful. the hurt and the blessing. how beautiful it is to feel wistful and sad. how beautiful it is to not understand and to have limited time and to ache for it to be opposite. it makes no sense. i know. but it seems true to me.
birthday's are good. remembering is good. we get to try again. it reminds me of you and me together. here and now. how once-in-a-lifetime this is. i wanna do something good with it. i don't wanna miss it. that's my wish for year 36. i want the whole world to change all over again. i don't wanna be afraid. and i want to share it with you.
thanks for being here,
russell
i've been thinking a lot about people i love who aren't here. missing them - recalling things i could've and should've done better and more and differently - frustrated by life's apparent "no-do-overs" policy... which is just one of those things that totally and completely sucks, doesn't it? so, i don't know. just the everyday feeling of time passing, i guess? overall, i'm struck by how simultaneously permanent and impermanent everything is. how hard it is to predict, and get it right the first time. and how in so many ways the past feels like a dream that never happened, and yet i'm completely emotionally affected and immersed in the reality and result of it. even now. i guess that's what hurts most of all? for me it is. and that's the part i don't how to face or deal with.
my wise, mature, side totally realizes that moving forward and working and giving our whole selves to reality and the possibility of change is the most important thing. i'm giving my heart to that. and trying. day by day. i'm not giving up. but there's also the parallel truth of regret and ache and longing and just-plain-sadness that pervades, and doesn't go away. it's the unavoidable, inexplicable truth in the process sometimes. can't escape it. i think most of us feel that way. and most of the time we know that good taste or decorum or spin requires us to cover it up and pretend to be ok and balanced and at peace with lots of stuff we're not really balanced or ok or at peace with. funny. maybe that's just life? probably. and maybe that sort of pretending is necessary and important and part of being real and mature and strong and loving? i see that too. it seems true. maybe.
but, within and around what's "ok" or "healthy" or "unhealthy," the truth is always that - as good and strong and ok as we are - we're also human. always. which means broken. and beautiful. and alone, and never alone. all simultaneously. we're all living with that uncertainty - the paradox - the loss of it. and, though some of us feign the opposite, we don't really know what it means. or, definitely not me, anyway! i don't. all of our ideas and beliefs and personas and strengths and weaknesses and talents are left on this side of the equation. and what's on the other side? what happens when we have to let go of all of our trusted illusions? even the healthy, "well-adjusted", ones??? what happens when trust and letting go is all that's left? can we do it? cuz, whenever we talk about doubt or fear or death, i think that's what we're really talking about. real letting go - the uncontrolled kind. the forced kind. it's scary, no doubt. bone scary. because none of us know what it's about. all the rules are new there. and there's nothing of substance i can really say about it, obviously. my words only serve to untie my words. i only feel it. and i suspect you probably know the feeling too. when we get there, faith isn't a choice anymore. it's just a simple, obvious, unavoidable, fact. there's nothing else left.
that's one side. and then there's the truth that i'm endlessly blessed in so many ways i could never fully comprehend. it's one of the perfect mysteries that i can't really grasp or even understand. i see just enough of it to be in awe... i'm struck by how beautiful it is. i don't understand, but i'm thankful. the hurt and the blessing. how beautiful it is to feel wistful and sad. how beautiful it is to not understand and to have limited time and to ache for it to be opposite. it makes no sense. i know. but it seems true to me.
birthday's are good. remembering is good. we get to try again. it reminds me of you and me together. here and now. how once-in-a-lifetime this is. i wanna do something good with it. i don't wanna miss it. that's my wish for year 36. i want the whole world to change all over again. i don't wanna be afraid. and i want to share it with you.
thanks for being here,
russell