I'm getting over being sick and haven't written in forever. Not because I've been sick, but because every time I remember I have this blog, I'm conveniently stuffing my face with pistachios in the kitchen and I tell myself one day I will become really witty and insightful and have something awesome to say. Something cool. Something that Meg from A Practical Wedding would say. Something that would encourage me to put on my broken, sideways glasses (I really really need new ones). But I'm just here, watching Dateline, with a sore throat and practicing breathing through my nose.
I'm not even sure why I have this blog because I'm a private person and don't really like technology. I'm not even sure why people like blogs these days. I have one that I follow religiously (mentioned above, ahem) but that's it. But these blogs where people just write about their lives and we're all supposed to jump on board? I don't know. I'm not sure what that says about us. Are we finding ways to connect and build community or are we really just desensitizing ourselves to real human contact and living in a false reality where you can make your identity whatever you want..You can be the person that you wish you were in the aisle at Whole Foods. You know, when someone's walking by you on the trail and you both do that halfway-hello thing that sounds like a baby meerkat asking if dinner's ready yet. Maybe?
I just watched a video someone posted on Facebook; it touched a nerve. It talked about the distress and fear in my gut that I've been dealing with for so long. The contradiction between things being so beautiful, so full, so intertwined in my soul, and things being so temporary, so fleeting, so foreign - so much so that I'm just a doll dropped into a dollhouse trying to figure out how to fend for herself. To find the way out. To get back home.
I'm realizing, through many storms and forests of panic and anxiety, that Home is actually in the impermanence. In the uncertainty. In the fragility. Home is not escaping fragility; Home is inside of Fragility. Home sits in the eye of vulnerability. Where my fears rub against my insides, where my love softens my shoulders. For so long I have been so petrified to be alive because it means one day I won't be. Holding anything takes strength, owning anything takes responsibility. My fear is not my enemy- it shows me where my boundaries are, where I feel safe, and more than anything, it shows me the gaping holes that desperately need to be filled with faith. It shows me where I'm empty, where I need to connect. It's a love song from the universe to me. It gets loud when I don't listen, and when I do, it gets so quiet- so much so that I am drawn closer and closer until we are one again.