Never give up seeing good in the world

I still feel hopeful. I feel lucky. I know that any world he existed in must be a world in which there is a capacity for the expression of immense beauty. I’m running through things…movies he said he liked, music he listened to, museums he wanted us to visit, people who meant the world to him. I want to see these things with renewed vigor. With new eyes.

I just put my arms around myself, as he did two nights ago. I wouldn’t have kicked him out of bed for snoring had I known. The last thing I said to him was that it was so good to see him. I tend not to be expressive in relationships, but I’m glad he knew what I felt. I have some comfort in that.

Visiting California has felt like falling into awaiting arms. Sitting on grassy knolls, walking down sun-filtered streets, dancing with friends in empty clubs, drinking my favorite spicy hot chocolate…this life feels sweet and gentle and peacefully unencumbered.

My dreams feel more like dreams and possibilities lately and less like tepid escape routes. I’ve felt good this week. Music clearer-colors more vivid-voices more friendly.

I am warm and calm and hopeful right now.

I’ve started to wonder why this goal seems more difficult than it ever used to be.

I suppose once you reach a certain age you’ve confronted more diverse situations, butted heads with more boundaries…and in the process, the actual consequences of your actions crystallize and become more apparent.

If anything, I’m learning that satisfying this goal is tightly bound to listening to my intuition. Sometimes I’ve chosen things based on what sounds interesting, or fearless, or impressive, rather than simply what feels right or what resonates with my core feelings and beliefs. Perhaps in effort to be who I’ve wanted to be, I’ve neglected who I am. I think taking a gentle approach (and certainly a less adversarial role with myself) will again soften the way I am able to come in contact with the world.

I seem to have this fixation on doing—on being occupied, prepared, engaged in something—as if allowing myself to relax would somehow de-activate any purposeful motivation.

I would like to give myself permission to just be…to take things in.

I had an entirely pleasant afternoon in the park today, complete with a great cup of Haagen Dazs, and plenty of people and dog-watching. I felt myself smiling on the inside. (The sun not only melted my ice cream, but also part of this unspoken stress cloud that has been hovering over me as of late).

This one has been a little difficult as of late. To be honest, a lot of things have. I’m trying to allow myself to feel whatever I feel and have confidence that my inner cynic won’t drown out the fundamental hopefulness I have about the future. I’m sensing a new level of apprehension at leaving so many things behind and I’m eager to get to the point where I can experience my leaving as a form of arrival, simply in another guise.

At lunch this afternoon, while a friend and I were eating on a restaurant patio, a lady bug flew onto my hand and lingered there for quite awhile. Just his presence provided a little spark; perhaps he was the harbinger of good things to come.

I think allowing myself to have a wider support system would aid in the process of me achieving my goals and generally improving my mood. I’d like to ask more questions, engage in more dialogue, and ultimately learn how to better accept the support that is offered (both here and else where)- with grace instead of resistance.

While I am not as active in this community as I aim to be, I would like to express my gratitude for this place and the strength, kind words and warmth that are circulated here on a daily basis with such genuine sincerity (and abandon!). It really resonates with me and reminds me of the vast amount of goodness that is so readily accessible even (and perhaps especially) when things appear bleak.