Life is quicker than the heart can tell




I've been thinking that pressure and troubles cause a kind of inertia, a feeling that I need to hide away until they pass. I have wanted to hide away but now, after another difficult day, I think that's all it was - a want. In reality, the situations I've had to experience over the last weeks and months have caused not inertia, not this immovable and unchanging state, but more of a blurred, overactive way of living which moves so fast that it pretends to not move at all.

The heart is tricked like the eye into thinking this blurred illusion is not properly seen, that it is a static fiction which doesn't move and cannot be altered until I am ready to stand up and face it. Instead what both the heart and the eye are looking at is a cruel trick of life where there is so very much going on at once, the senses are unable to take it in.

Time after time, issue after issue, problem after problem and all superseded by an overarching unwillingness for life to go smoothly, pushing me to the point of caving in and just saying Enough.

No matter whether I am hiding or whether life is a perpetually unmanageable blur of feeling, when a limit is reached then it is either turn away or break. I blame, I blame myself, I look for solutions within and then, confused, start casting about for them in the outside world.

I am both stopped in place by events and catapulted onwards by feelings. As if life wasn't complex at the best of times, when it becomes more so and this complexity is so full and ripe it is barely able to stay on the tree, then what can I do? How can I solve a multitude of problems when only one seems too big and ready for fruition?

The answer is in where I began: that blur of motion, so quick as to be unseen, is not the part I am meant to fix. It is unfixable in its present state. After all, how can any person fix something that is moving too quickly for the eye to process? You cannot find a solution for a problem which is moving too fast to hold onto.

What must be solved is my reaction to it, my need to feel that if I can do this then that will be resolved. I must let go of my feelings of control - they are illusory at best and in this climate of change and headlong, imminent undoing, any sense of control is foolhardy.

I must accept that I am in a place of flux, that I am also in flux, that the change which moves everything else so quickly cannot pass by without also moving me. I must realise, finally, that the reason I cannot fix anything is because it is not there to be fixed, it is just there because life is like that sometimes.

There is no hiding, there is no safe place in the physical world. I can only hold myself close and wait for the heady sense of motion to settle, and in settling for it to be revealed what it was that was spinning so fast it could not be seen.

It is only once this motion is over that I will be able to see clearly and know what I am dealing with. Until then, any attempt to change or resolve will end in partial victory at best and defected failure most of the time.

I need the patience to trust myself and to give up control. If I wait, it will slow, solidify, the colours will separate as the movement scales back. That will be the moment when it is time for me to stand and go forward, to have a better look. Then, and not before, is when I can see what must be done.

Until then I will live in the blur and know that waiting is a skill in itself. When we give up control and wait for understanding, we are learning to trust ourselves in the knowledge that not everything can be understood at the time we choose. Everything has a time and we are no exception.

Amanda




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