Time flies. Some times it quite amazes me. Not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just that sometimes it catches me off guard and I’m surprised by how much time has past since last I noticed. Another full moon lit the sky last night. I look forward now to the next week of silver light in the predawn hours as the moon sets later and later each day, illuminating my early morning rituals.
I’m anxious for a change, but that is the one thing that seems to be standing still. We sit here in our comfort, trying to accept the things we don’t like, tolerate things we aspire to change, attempting to make baby steps towards our future, and reminding ourselves that this state we are stuck in isn’t too terrible. So many have it so much worse. We all say that and try to justify our pain by comparing to another’s. That’s never worked well for me.
Yet we feel tangled in a sticky web at times, unable to move freely. Caught up in the past, in others dreams, in binding ties and obligations and responsibilities. It’s not all bad, we know. So much of it is wonderful. But something underneath it all feels wrong, and encourages us to try to move ahead. Perhaps it’s the never ending family issues, which I fear are as much a part of the land as the tainted soil, and will not wash out in the next heavy rain. Other times, I feel it is the fear of change that causes us to cling so strongly onto the safety of the past, the safety of the little bit of what we do know, rather than stepping into the unknown.
But why do we hold onto it? Just for the comfort? Also, of course, because making the change is coming so hard. Those doors just aren’t opening.
The future is scary, likewise the time of change. But the remaining here without change, without forward motion, seems somehow to be like a sickness one learns to live with. Not necessary healthy, but tolerable. You know it could be worse.
But I know it could be better. I don’t want to hold onto the past for fear of the future.
I remember being brave. I am not right now. I feel it, remember it, and am itching to step boldly again.
Enough of looking within. Time to look outside. As the pink clouds streak the sky and the tips of the mountains across river already have direct light from the rising sun. My horses line up along the fence waiting for my whistle, and the boys will be up soon ready for another good day.