Maybe I just crumble when I reach this level of stress. Maybe I’m just not made for it. Maybe the fact that I’m prone to extremes impedes my ability to handle anything at all when I’m stressed as much as I am right now.
Life has tides. I get that. I get the up and I get the down and I get the static–I’m always grateful for the static–but still, it wears a woman out to be moving around so much.
Can life be blurry and clear at the same time? I took about a year to figure myself out and I can tell you that the shadow of self I see staring back at me as I glide against the sunlight is more focused, more detailed, more permanent than it’s ever been. And yet, everything that is not in my head and in my heart–which is, of course, everything else and other–is like a kaleidoscope puzzle. I’ve kind of determined that I’m not the one to sort out the shapes from the colors, and so I just sit and wait for the skies to clear around me. Waiting is hard. I’m not good at waiting.
I saw a double rainbow the other day. It rose above us on the soccer sidelines. Many parents took out their phones and their cameras and snapped pictures of the magical moment. I kind of just stared at the sky, moving my head left to right and right to left like I was watching a tennis match. And I laughed this oh-so-free laugh, like nothing could touch me in that moment.
Maybe that’s what it’ll feel like when the puzzle breaks free of the kaleidoscope and comes together to form one, whole picture. Maybe that’s what it’ll feel like when the focus I have on the inside stops feeling so separate from the world I live on the outside. Or, maybe my life will always be like that double rainbow. One strong, perfect, rainbow beamed across the sky, showing each of the Roy G. Biv colors. And another, just above and beyond it, slightly fuzzy and nearly broken in the middle. Faded. Worn. But still there. And just as important as the one standing in front of it.
It’s Tuesday. That means you Just Write and then go join Heather.