It’s taken me a lifetime to get to where I am. It seems like a lifetime away, but as I look back I feel the building blocks that have shaped and molded my existence. Such a long time ago, a little boy sat mesmerized with everything he gazed upon and reached out to. Such an inquisitive nature, completely innocent and void of judgment. The bright eyed questions that spun around inside the restless mind of this young lad weren’t unlike anyone else’s, but they were mine, and mine alone.
So much of who I am today directly reflects upon those building blocks of yesterday. Brothers, sisters, a mom and a dad are all part of me, and I care not to think what it would be like today without a yesterday full of them.
As the lines in the mirror grow longer in years, I can feel the age creeping in and molding the young lad yet again, though in a different way. Memories that span over time have a hand in aging the soul, the mind, the spirit, and although the gathered experiences help to compile character, like so many others, the woes of the body have also had a huge hand in shaping who I am, and yes, where I might be able to go from here on out.
I always tell folks that I don’t want to be a burdon, that I don’t want to have to be taken care of, but the fact is, a great part of my life these days is dependant on being able to ask for help. It’s a humbling experience to say the least, but along these past five sightless years, I have had to accept things for what they are, and what they are is something extraordinarily unique to which I used to be.
I am a thankful man, but I am also a seriously bitter man locked inside a life of anxious doubt. I still rely on a compassionate soul, but parts of my spirit have wandered to the side, spending valuable time hanging around the vagabond shoes of the unwilling.
What the hell does that mean?
I suppose it might mean that although I start each day willing to take on the challenges of a lightless world, I find myself some days slipping quickly into the fissures of a deep, dark, endless obstacle that has become what I don’t want, but what I am dealt.
I often write about how within each difficult situation lies an opportunity to move ahead. One step to the side, one step back and if I try hard enough, perhaps two steps forward. Those forward motions do seem tiny at times, but they are progress none the less.
And here I am, once again, facing a seemingly insurmountable wall of obstruction.
I’m not unlike so many others, in that I lose focus, I lose ambition; I lose the strength to summoned one more step forward. It’s hard to silence the voices of a tired soul, but it’s also hard to quell the heart of a warrior, which I’ve been told I have.
I talked with my father a while ago and asked him if he remembered his dreams, if there was one particular dream that he remembered having. He paused for a moment or two, and then told me of a young man, a warrior, who was constantly at battle with evil. He told me of how this young soldier of life had the courage brought forth to him by a great source of power, of goodness, of amazing strength. Through years of these same dreams, the source of energy in his dreams came from an ever present light of white, an illuminating light of good. Through his childhood and into his later years, he dreamt of doing battle beside a warrior unlike any other. This source of strength stayed with him through his waking hours and shone as a guiding light.
When I am experiencing difficult times through the course of my days, I imagine that strong, steadfast warrior, taking on the foes of challenge. I imagine my father, swinging his sword as he walks into the great battle of life. It’s a humbling feeling knowing that this great warrior of sleep stood beside me, behind me, with me as I grew old.
I don’t want to be a burdon, nor do I want to be pitied, but some days, it’s hard to avoid those obstacles of repression. I suppose by my nature, I can easily get caught up in complacency. I don’t handle change well, and I don’t do well with having to give up control of any kind. So much of my life is controllable, but every facet of what goes on around my life isn’t.
I just realized something. How on earth can we, or why would we ever want to feel comfortable with complacency, when we’re fully aware that the world never stops changing? Why would I ever knowingly expect anything other than change?
Now I’ve got something to think about for the rest of the day.
Go grab hold of your day and change something.
Go on! I dare ya!