Sunrise was incredible on the pond yesterday--bands of magenta and purple across the sky, brilliant green grass on the banks, every color in the rainbow reflected on the water. I sat down in my favorite red leather chair and soaked it in for several minutes.
The thing is, I don't remember the last time I noticed the sunrise. It's been months. Many. That's what led to yesterday's post about progress. You get numb to things, you know? Good, bad or indifferent, you just get used to things.
So, yes, it's certainly good that going out to eat alone no longer fills me with shame and fear. It's good that dead animal removal no longer freaks me out or requires a biohazard suit and a scalding shower after. But I'm not sure it's good that I no longer need others. If I were more in touch with how good it can be to share my life, I might do more to make that happen. I don't want to ignore glorious sunrises or give up on having a hand to hold through life.
I would really, really like a hand to hold. Even if I can throw away my own dead birds.
4 comments:
Thanks Jerri!
I've read this post several times now, and have a feeling that it conveys something pretty universal.
The mood of wonder giving way a sense of deficit is the human story in a nutshell. Certainly describes my own experience, much of the time.
I'll be thinking on this for a long time. Especially regarding the alchemy of it. Presumably the chemistry works in the opposite direction, too: deficit can turninto wonder just as quickly.
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