Usually the process of writing starts when I see that I’ve not watered my plants enough, or when a friend drops something in my lap that says, “Here! Struggle with this alongside me!”
I wake up to it all the time.
Mostly, this bright morning sun. I am not given the option to sleep late here, because when the sun is up and bright, I feel as though I am resisting its presence.
I also wake up to a dull ache that sometimes feels like loneliness. Oh, I feel it in my bones quite often. The embrace of another warm body and someone to make breakfast for.
Then there are the wars for place and history and religion.
The senseless acts of human beings just being terrible to one another.
I know, I know. It’s too much to dive into all of that. I have always carried a weight for the world, you see?
My favorite author (read: spiritual guide) wrote a little piece this week on the things I’ve been waking up to.
She ended it by saying this,
“There are many forms of thirst, many kinds of water.”
I don’t know what to do.
And maybe that’s the best place to start.
Many mornings, I sit up and plant my feet on these wooden floors.
I can hear my ankles crack a bit, and I breathe in and out. Deep, exaggerated breaths. Like the ones I used to do in therapy when I didn’t know why or what.
There is a lot I wish I could believe. That maybe there will be a shift when things get bad enough. Or we will all be taught how to keep living in this world with all that pain and gnashing of teeth.
I believe in a truth that this world is all we have. I believe that in our journey to be perfect and to have perfect things, we have exhausted our imaginations and our resources.
It’s easy to let it overwhelm.
But you do what we all do and keep going.
It’s easier to quench the thirst of a few than a few thousand, but if enough people decide to stop burning things to the ground, then we might have a chance to build something.
I guess, this piece is a little hard for me to write. For one, I don’t like to be super opinionated. I have many opinions and it’s okay to be opinionated. I also choose safety of space more than any opinion that I have. Because to be honest, mine have changed so much over the years, so I take them as I do a good book or a song. Rich and meaningful in certain seasons, but maybe shift into something else in another.
A few days ago I bought a bird feeder and put it on the clothesline outside my apartment.
It feels good to feed the smallest of things. Especially the ones that sing their songs so loud when the sun comes up.
That makes sense to me more than anything right now.
So, I start small feeding tiny things.
And then, I see that the world keeps moving.
This is how we put out fires within ourselves.
This is how we create small kinds of peace.
‘there are many forms of thirst, many kinds of water.’