It was a wild revelation when I discovered that what I needed was not a reason any longer or an explanation as to why so-and-so had done such a thing but rather, that what I needed was my own self-assurance. My own calm and private strength. A self-reliance that could forever support me through my never knowing someone else’s why and through my journey to discovering my own.
This is a healthy way to live.
To feel okay in not knowing, in not needing to know.
This is my target, my aim, my sun, the light that I reach toward, that I blossom under.
I see it now, how my thirsty want to reason away the behavior of another was not inquisitive as much as it was desperate. The pleading cry that asks to soothe a woman’s own aggression.
For so long I have used thoughtfulness to mask my roar and rage. My resentment.
To know is to feel under control. To know is to tame our doubt.
And what a totally fantastical effort this proves to be.
It’s fantastical to think one day I’ll be free of doubt when the reality is doubt will always confront me to a certain degree. I will always be one thought too many or one thought away from my own emotional discomfort. That’s life. To a certain degree, doubt will always be my shadow side.
Instead of seeking control through knowledge and absolutes, I believe we are greatly rewarded once we stop doing that, once we stop pressing others to conform to our expectations or clarify their reasons not to.
At a certain point, we have to honor life’s inevitables, that perspectives will shift and emotions may very well evolve beyond their original promise or impression.
We have to honor the lifespan of our relationships and attachments and, regardless of our grievance, honor the inexplicable chasm between our desire and our destiny, where lovers drop out of sight and we are tricked into letting people go.
We must believe there is some beautiful reason to it all, that everything that does and does not happen for us is purposeful. We must pour faith into this, into meanings we can not yet fathom.
To do otherwise, I feel we just won’t survive. We will anguish.
Resistance simply leaves us no energy to thrive.
She must let herself hear the silence surrounding a betrayal without giving in to it, without allowing the severity of a lover’s silence override her own heartsong.
I understand that we do ourselves the least harm when we let the mystery and misery move through us, when we let the tension ingrained in the single word “why” pass.
Yes, to let my tension pass is the most passionate way I could ever possibly receive my life, my desire, my destiny.
This is the kind of big stuff that recently I’ve been after, that recently I’ve reached out into the world for—the kind of stuff I’ll need to be believing in should I ever see myself truly thrive.