“Meanwhile the world goes on,” says Mary Oliver. I repeat her poems to myself like mantras—for comfort. Lately I am finding it hard to achieve balance in my life. I want to focus on myself, but I don’t want to sink too far into myself. I want to want things, but I don’t want to obsess over them. I want to feel everything, but not too intensely. Or maybe I do. In retrospect, I always do (it makes for better writing). But I cannot control everything. I can barely control anything. It must be necessary to let go of that urge to dictate the timeline that the world has for me. Otherwise I am wrenching myself from the hands of greater forces.
Taking my own advice this month has been hard. I have been living extrovertedly this month, and now I find that I cannot be alone. I am proud of the person I am, but also seeking nervous attachment. It kind of sucks that the struggle to achieve healthy self-esteem is a lifelong process. Somewhat relatedly: I have a hard time accepting that nothing is really innately fair. The world owes us nothing, but we owe the world everything!
I am on a plane and missing optimism. But it will find me again soon because these things are cyclical. I will make something and return to myself shortly. I will listen to “Flightless Bird, American Mouth” and think about movies. I will eat some pesto. I will put these thoughts out into the ether like I do every month, letting them float there miraculously as lines of code and otherwise meaningless symbols. Meanwhile the world goes on.
End-of-Month | webzine and blog 