Silence is golden in the early morning hour just before the sun peaks its first rays over the eastern horizon, no on stirs and I am sitting on the front stoop of my house sipping on a steamy cup of coffee. The steam rises in the crisp autumn air and disappears somewhere above my head.
We have all hear the saying “An attitude of gratitude” being grateful is harder than being pissed off at things. Why is that? I ask myself that question multiple times. Are we just wired that way or is something more sinister afoot?
Who are you? Who are you really, at the core of your heart?
This is the question that will bring out the glazed eyes and the droll for most. They don’t know or they are afraid to find out. Walking around with a mask is much easier, safer, less messy perhaps.
This day August 16, 2019 I am more aware of things going on in the world, I am more in tune with myself. I see myself and others with different eyes, with more compassion. I have been asking myself, why? Why, when I was younger, I was less aware of things going on around me and my inner thoughts. It wasn’t because I didn’t care, I just hadn’t developed the skills to gather and retain wisdom as well as I do now.
People nowadays are more aware of alternative medicine and are educating themselves about the side effects of conventional drugs. Even some doctors are leaning towards allowing your immune system time to do what it’s designed to do in the body.
The rain was pounding against the west facing windows, another streak of lightening brightened up the night sky, I tensed up for the roar to follow. The book I was reading hung limply in my hand, tucking my feet snugly under myself, I settled even further down into the lazy boy I was sitting on.
I kept an eye on them from the kitchen window as my five children played in the back yard, washing my dishes I drifted back in time when I had no responsibilities, back when life was carefree, I could read books, use the bathroom and do other things without interruption. Life was good back then, “but life is way better now” I mused to myself. Working my way through the pile of dishes I felt relief and satisfaction on another task done.
Where does grit and courage come from? Is it an outside force or something deep within? I feel it comes from both inside and out. Moms with children can attest to this, its grit that keeps you sane and moving forward when it feels like there is nothing more to give. I have my own gritty stories…
Just when I thought I couldn’t handle any more, I felt a violent tug on my body. I was screaming down that dang tunnel again, shrieking “I want to go back to my real life, I want to make better choices” landed on deaf ears I was alone in this journey. On and on I hurdled this time was longer. I came to a rough halt in a shadowy graveyard, the street lights giving enough illumination to see inscriptions on the headstones.
Looking down at myself I felt quite stupid, the boxers I had on were the ones Bev had bought me as a gag gift for Christmas last year and they were covered in red hearts and lips. In any other situation I would have laughed and drank some beer but here I didn’t even know where here was.