searching through sparsely dappled light

so many thoughts run through my mind.

most complex.

several ambivalent.

many unpleasant.

i miss the days where my mind was free to wander amongst paths lit with light, or searching for buried treasure metaphors.

now it seems my mind is lost in a forest with little light where it is difficult to find my bearings, and i find myself perceiving most movement or sound through the lens of threat or trust. the interesting part is i struggle to know if i can even trust my own discernment right now. things look different when you can only see through sparsely dappled light. the information is distorted, and meaning is added to fill in the insufficient details. i don't trust my fear to tell me what is true, i don't trust my hope to tell me what is true either. ...and i certainly do not feel like i can trust the perception of someone who has become so rooted in the forest they no longer recognize that they could see more clearly by stepping into the light. i find i must take care in who shares direction. 

my mind cycles in thought—except the cycles are not complete. no. my thoughts cross over themselves, intersecting and interrupting each other. if one were to map my path through this forest, it would not reveal circles, but rather scribbles upon the page. my mind wanders restlessly, searching for something resolute. something that makes sense of the questions. 

the only thing i trust is that i know and understand myself enough to recognize that i will find my way back onto illuminated pathways once i learn to accept that my thoughts may never be resolved before stepping into the light. 

gardening in the mind

my counselor and i rooted out a dying shrub in the landscaped garden of my mind. 

it left a hole larger than i was expecting. 

you see, this shrub didn't look like it was dying. in fact, from one angle the part that was still thriving was growing wild, reaching for new ways to take purchase. it was necessary to remove it because keeping it meant the shrub could potentially choke out other plants or worse, spread disease. 

but now i have a hole larger than i was expecting and i don't know what to do with it. when i scan over the landscape, i no longer feel continuity or ubiquity. now my mind is caught on the substantial void—and the ways it must be filled. 

this poses questions as i am certain you'd agree. what do i fill it with? is my counselor also a gardener, and can help me determine what is best suited to plant there? will the soil first need tending as i emulsify nutrients for optimal growth? if so, what does that look like? or perhaps we can just pick a hardier species of plant, one that is apt to the overall scheme? plant it, water it, and move on. 

and then there is the final option that a fellow gardener of the mind suggested. what if, for now, it is enough to fill the hole with more dirt, cap off the drip-line from watering that area, and tend it by plucking weeds that aspire to sprout; allowing space for a while? 

this feels right for now. knowing that any time of my choosing, i can dig deeper or plant something anew. 

a notable thought

 this morning, a life was saved.

i was looking ahead in my morning walk, glanced down for a moment, and was able to save a pill bug's life by shortening my step a fraction. 

the pill bug continued on its way, unaware anything remarkable had happened. 

this brought to mind that sometimes the tiny things bring great happiness to someone else — and quiet satisfaction to ourselves. 

somewhere today, a child will discover a ladybug. someone is going to pull the first tomato from a backyard garden they have been checking each morning. someone who has been trying for weeks will finally make the connection that lets them tie a shoe. someone will catch the largest fish ever and they won't have to exaggerate the experience. ...there is also someone who will find peace withing by setting a boundary. 

none of these things are newsworthy. yet each moment is notable. together, they keep the world moving forward.

nothing big. 

just things we notice when we pull our eyes from our path ahead for a moment and shorten our step a fraction. 

golden light of gratitude

 thinking about gratitude today...

i have spent so much time moving from one thing to the next asking 'why' and 'how' and 'when.'

somehow i forgot to the time to notice what 'is.'

'is' doesn't ask anything. it doesn't solve anything. it simply acknowledges what has already been settled. resolute. — i feel that is where gratitude presides.

there is a time in the morning where the light surrounding us transitions from a cool, murky blue to warm and golden. — that is what gratitude does. 

it takes the focus from seeing only what the day may bring, to showing what is. 

gratitude doesn't pain the world in gold. it is revealing the small details that were already there and may have been missed due to obscurity by the grade of light. 

map and compass

 i lost the map i once navigated life by. 

granted, i had created the map from landmarks and coordinates that were not quality foundational reference points. after all, how can a cartographer have an accurate representation when they are basing their map on the time of lowest elevation as a waymark?

somehow this map has served me well enough that now that it is gone, i am the one feeling misplaced. standing in an open meadow, not certain which direction will give me cover from the elements and unsure which direction leads to home.

i would love for someone to let me use their map, yet i know i wouldn't fully trust its markings and would struggle reading the key. 

must i begin anew?
constructing an atlas from old truths revealed in clarity, incorporating trusted pieces of others' maps,  and adding new wayposts as i navigate through new terrain?
...or is it enough to journey in wanderlust exploring each moment. guided by some well known landmarks and trusting my compass will help me orient? 

i wonder if that is how all maps are made after-all. 

pooled thoughts

 my mind is swimming in pooled thoughts. everything feels fluid and difficult to hold. 

sure, there are thoughts that cling to my skin like a droplet of water, but they are miniscule and difficult to expand into something more. the conclusion i have come to as i am in this state; i will allow the thoughts to ebb and flow as i lay back and tread the waters of my mind. 

hoping the current will lead me somewhere more solidified. 

intangible weight

why is it that we add weight to things that are not tangible? 
i said, "things" which made me realize that perhaps we must add weight to nouns. ...and in that sense a thought, idea, event, or emotion that becomes so heavy, it becomes a noun because it is easier to grasp—yet, harder to hold. 
really though, why is it that the intangible, the unsubstantial, the incorporeal are often the heaviest things we could carry? 

and why does it matter? 

...matter. 

meaning equals matter. 

and matter adds weight. 

what divine design we live in.