Straight Lines

I notice that I am using words borrowed from friends in these posts sometimes. The title here comes from a conversation that I had with my friend Julie, who has talked and listened me through some rough patches in the past months. She's a good 'un and reminded me one day that healing is not a straight line. Although it happens sometimes, we rarely wake up 'all better' never to fall back into the abyss again.

Most often I find that things move in waves, sometimes better and more clear, sometimes not. I have moments and occasionally days of epiphany and clarity. Then on the nth day I find myself 'regressed' again, turning over the same stone as before, perhaps seeing another aspect of it, or maybe just seeing the same aspect with different eyes. I get fed up with myself then. The ego pulls up to the curb and smacks me around a bit and asks me what the hell I am doing here, back on this beach, with this endless supply of sea-worn stones. Wasting my time. Get over it, she says, move on, find a new stone or two. Better, go to a new beach. She never reminds me that I have already done that, already moved on, or that coming back here sometimes is ok, not the end of the world, and is part of the process. I take a step or two forward, maybe a step or three back, but the result is something new. The ego is not gentle or truthful. And we are not built for straight lines.

I actually found myself saying to someone the other day that I am happy. It just came out, very calmly and without fanfare or analysis. I have built, am building a good life. I felt it to be true in that moment, and the sense of it has remained with me. It is a quiet voice, and it is made of simple stuff. It is not wild and collaborative and perfect. It is a calm intensity (to borrow someone else's words), imperfect, purposeful and kind.