There is light in the eyes of another.
It whispers like the wind through branches
and their leaves are ready to fall
onto a ground they have looked at before
but never touched.
Soon, the leaves will fall onto unknown territory.
Maybe dirt, maybe mud, maybe greener-than-Irish-hills grass will greet the uncontrollably falling wanderers,
as they let gravity and the forces of nature
sculpt a bond
we all take pictures of.
The creatures are still as they take in these falling leaves.
Some will cry, some with simply watch,
and few will roll in the leaves in comfort.
As the earth revolves and seasons change,
the ground and leaves stay the same,
and as one supports another,
the ground knows that when the leaves hang again from the branches the wind whispers through,
they can still look at each other and await
To the few of you that have actually, regularly, paid attention to my “blog,” thank you. For those of you that know little-to-nothing about me and are reading something I have written for the first time, thank you.
I think it goes without saying that, for the last few months, darkness has been the theme to my way of life. Losses, burdens, altering realities - all of these have snuck into my life. And that’s just the thing: darkness waits for no one and will consume anyone but with almost gentility. Reasons for my allowing of darkness to consume me are my empathy and my ignorance. I love to help people, and, if you know me, personally, that really goes without saying. Having been involved with work involving teaching, security, coaching, etc., I’ve found life, as well as myself, worthwhile. My little philosophical outlook on helping people has been this: if someone I help, whether it be directly or indirectly, can remember me as someone that positively affected their lives, whether it be three days from now or thirty years from now, than I have accomplished something.
Empathy, though, did something to me that I thought it never would. Through my own empathetic notions towards others, I lost sight of myself. Through substituting my own pain for someone else’s, I took the weight off their shoulders and put it on mine, and through that, gave myself something to worry about. Well, soon, something became somethings became everything. I am not a or the Messiah. I am not “Holier than Thou.” I do not have wings on my back. I am a human being that has a bucket-list of problems, just like you, and because of empathy, I lost sight of those problems that call me their host. Then, all at once, my own problems came rushing back to me like a horrifying realization, and suddenly, I was useless (in my mind). “Too much, too soon” was my predicament. I went from being this outlet for people to someone that was unable to help them self.
Suddenly, enemies of my past - anxiety, panic attacks, night terrors, depression, hypertension - returned. I tried to make myself believe that I was “okay” at first, and then finally gave in to the fact that I wasn’t. Without going into details, the last six months of my life have been a real test to see if living would ever be worth something.
Do I blame philosophy? Sure, we can do that; really, what I think my blessing/burden will always be is my hunger so a constant search. I love God will all my heart. I do. But I refuse to let everything be fed to me and allow myself to simply accept it. There is more than face value, to everything. Without going to far into religion and relating it all back to my main idea, I will constantly be challenging meanings and reasons: the meaning of life, the reasons of existence, the meaning and reasons of love, the reason why I, personally, believe in God. Do we have an actual, solid, evidential reason to believe in God? In my opinion, no. But that is where faith comes into play. Faith: the courage to believe in something that can be reasonably doubted.
I’ve said a lot, and I mean what I say, but I’ll wrap it up so that you can keep scrolling.
Darkness lives in me, and I welcome it. As a writer and musician, I always put the best work out when I can turn negativity into something beautiful. I can say, though, that I am moving forward. I owe thanks to my friends that I call my brothers and sisters. Without naming any names (you know who you are), thank you for not allowing me to sink, for telling me that light exists, and for allowing me to express me blackness in somewhat constructive ways. Thank you to those of you that have sent me messages on Tumblr, some of which have not been published, simply because you’ve asked me not to.
I would love to remind you all that it is okay to not be okay; however, in those instances, there is always someone wanting to listen.
I’m just one inbox message away.
*Dwight is carving a piece of wood in the break room”
Phyllis - “What are you making?”
Dwight - “A knife.”
Phyllis - “You’re making a knife with a knife?”
Dwight - “You got a better way?”
Phyllis - “You wanna talk about it?”