Let’s go fly…

LivingstonOf course I believe bravado is a good thing. It keeps me, for example, from giving in to shitty, self-deprecating, and dwelling-on-regrets type of stuff. But there comes a time when I need to let it go, too. Let the fear, or whatever else, come.

When I wrote the other day about lies and the telling of them, it was in an effort to come to terms with a fault. My hope was that owning up would help make things right, or at least, better. My integrity is wounded by my proclivity for embellishment, while my logical mind is trying to allow, forgive, and forget past transgressions. It goes without saying it will be easier the more truthful I am. Aren’t I just such a work in progress, eh? Take today…

I woke heavy. The sky was blue. There was sun. Surreal, I thought, rolling over hoping to go back to sleep. No good, so I dragged my sorry arse out and downstairs. Tears burned behind my eyes – a normal thing when I’m like this. Really down at this point, I took a lukewarm coffee back to my room and decided to see if I could find something, anything good to cling to.

Now when I write ‘…something, anything good…’ I mean in me. I’ve so much good around me, a lot of love, much caring, and even the odd success. Those are outside things, though. I need to feel them inside – about me. For me, by me kind of thing. Does that make sense? Subtle distinction to be sure.

Anywho, through the skylight I could see a large flock – dozens – of gulls swooping and swirling. It was intoxicating watching them and brought to mind “Jonathan Livingston Seagull”. I asked myself why such unmitigated fear? Was I afraid to fly?

There are several good reasons for my fear these days, but letting them or it destroy me seems counter intuitive. And then, like Bach’s character, I realized something profound. It’s okay to not be okay. It is what it is. Stand and look. Watch. Learn. It might be uncomfortable, even painful, but it is still, okay.

Depression can take you to terrifying places. Over the years, I visited those places often. I allowed it, became familiar with it because it was as the adage suggests, “…the devil I knew”. The result of that, however, was while I gave myself permission to be miserable, I never permissioned myself to feel joy, love, or honest caring affection. I wasn’t good enough for that. I lost the ability to play.

It’s hard to realize how much I’ve missed, how many I’ve neglected. It’s also hard to look at my current position without wanting to vomit. What’s different though is that now, I really, really, really believe in that seagull, and furthermore, believe I can be a better me.

So tonight’s wish is a quote from Richard Bach’s story. We really must believe in our potential in spite of adversity.

“Don’t believe what your eyes are telling you. All they show is limitation. Look with your understanding. Find out what you already know and you will see the way to fly.” Jonathan Livingston Seagull

Until tomorrow…


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