Monday, April 28, 2014

Nothing matters most.

Life is so exquisitely meaningless, yet it means so much to me. There are a thousand reasons why every instant has beauty and wonder. The small curve of my young son’s cheek catches my breath with its form. I shaped that face inside myself; now, he strides forward to face the world. I am in awe of the miniscule beginnings that stretch larger, outward, into each of us and beyond. He and I both come from the elements of stars, and will cycle back again, in turn. The profundity of how absolutely connected everything is, on an elemental scale, remains astonishing.

A cluster of cells—united in purpose—divide to multiply. Repetition and pattern, the rules of formation engage. Are you flora? Or, are you fauna? There are rules for your making. Why do you form thusly so? We cannot say exactly why, only how. As such, then, how curious, and how marvelous; how remarkable it all is! The lifespan of a person is usually within the confines of only one century. This proves to be no more than a mere speck in the ever-expanding continuum of time. The lifespan of an adult mayfly is usually within the confines of only one day. It is a fully lived life, though brief in comparison to our own human experience. This extraordinary brevity causes me to pulse with gratitude for the chance to even exist. Look closer and you will see lifetimes lived within a moment. Epic dramas of tiny proportions are contained within a single dewdrop.

There is nothing exceptionally exceptional about existence. It occurs hourly, and is ended likewise. There is nothing special about being alive, other than that it is happening to you. The conscious framework of your own being is the only reason you have any meaning at all.

The meaning of life is what you make of it. My life means nothing, but I shall make the most of it. Nothing matters, really. How, then, do I find that all the nothingness matters most of all?

Thursday, April 24, 2014


My life ebbs and flows in every unexpected way. I used to believe it was my duty to commandeer my own ship, and, thusly, always set a direct course for my final destination. In recent years, I have found the journey to be far more enjoyable taking a rafting approach. The learnings I’ve taken from past experiences provide me with paddles to steer through dangerous or tricky circumstances. Trusted, supportive friends are the life preservers I use to keep myself afloat through times of difficulty. Other than that, my only job is to let the current guide me through these winding waters. I cannot see around the bend, but I will experience it when I get there. I am part passenger, and part gentle navigator. Now that I no longer need to constantly focus on what may be coming, I can finally appreciate the scenery surrounding me. It’s nice to be here.

Sunday, April 20, 2014


I am willing, but not always able,
To be what I think it is to be relatable.
Everyone else seems to have read the manual
On how to accomplish life correctly.

Most days I feel an awkward fulcrum
The tipping point of uncertainty,
Between confidence and people pleasing,
Where I falter and withdraw.

It's all the people and all the stories
Of everything I am and never will be.
I feel the heavy weight of failing other’s expectations.
I am a disappointment, and it crushes me.

I know it's all just false idealism.
Why won't my feelings follow reason?
I don't know the banal comfort of blissful ignorance.
I am bittersweet.

I'm wrong, I'm wrong, I'm wrong.
I would willingly admit this a thousand times,
If you tell me how to never make
A hurtful mistake again.