Sometimes you can find good things through pain, like you’ve visited the very pit of hell and, unbeknownst to you, you grabbed something bright and shiny, some light or truth, and it stuck to your clothes and it rode back up with you.
Sometimes you have to see something ugly and wrong about yourself in someone else before you recognize it in the mirror. (Is that what I look like? Is that how I sound?) and then, upon the realization, you carve that bit out and discard it.
Sometimes others don’t understand what’s happening with you, so they write you off as crazy, and sometimes people love you anyway, stay, love you through.
Sometimes your arms reach out and grab onto an angel and you wrestle it to the ground, demanding truth and light, you wrestle it until you’re totally out of breath, spent, lying on the ground, out of strength and you think you’re dying.
Sometimes the sheer brokenness of the world collides with broken parts within yourself and your soul cries out in pain. And it hurts more than anything physical when you realize no-one’s got it together. Nope. Not a soul on this planet.
Sometimes I beat my chest and scream at the top of my lungs without ever opening my mouth. I walk away, away from it all, the frustration and struggle of it all, completely overwhelming me. I hide in my cave and sulk.
Sometimes I find beauty in the world that astounds me and transports me to an altogether different place, an Eden, Nirvana. I glimpse the world as it could be and for a second my soul grabs my spirit and they fly, fly, ever so high, not daring to come down, not daring to look down for fear of falling.
Sometimes reality bursts in and I’m wondering how to pay the light bill with my meanderings, wondering what it’s all for, wondering why I couldn’t stay in that place.
Sometimes reality stinks.
Sometimes I try to shut the mind down, turn it off like flipping a switch and suddenly I understand why people take mind-altering drugs, numb themselves with alcohol.
And sometimes someone or something comes along and pulls me out of my monkey mind and back into the world of living, breathing people, some who love me and want to hug me back into existence.
Sometimes I’m found.