Revelations while frying...

Maybe I'm sentimental since I haven't fried fish in a while, or maybe it's because it's the end of the semester, but while I was cooking I had a revelation. Not one of the cooking variety; one of the "Wow! That's what's going on!" variety. You know, game-changers. Thinking over some of my past relationships (not that there have been many fish in the sea--sexual or platonic), I realized that not everyone who enters my life is meant to stay. Sometimes I try to hold on to people, hoping that things can remain the same. Sometimes I'm successful, others not so much. But I realize now that in doing so, I'm not only preventing them from fulfilling their mission, but I'm preventing myself from doing so as well.

I think we forget that we are temporal beings. We don't last forever. We're not meant to. Obvious? Sure. Considered? Not often. We get so wrapped up in trying to build things that will last--buildings, legacies, relationships--that we forget that things in this life, things in our life, are not designed to last. Don't get me wrong, certain things and people will remain with us for years. But no matter how long they can hold out, they too must end. Either we leave them, or they leave us. Finitude is hardwired into our existence. This doesn't have to be a fight, or even terrifying. It can be reassuring at times. A great example being school. I mean, I like school, but I can only handle so many more classes! What keeps me going is knowing that there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Still finite doesn't mean pointless. Though it may be finite, my time in school has a purpose in my life. (Heh. Even if it's to be my impetus for joining one of the Occupy movements.)

In the same way, I realize that every person who enters my life has a purpose. Some people are encouragement in times of need. Some people are teachers imparting bits of wisdom. Some people are cultivators helping me grow. And let's be honest, some people are tests, plain and simple! Nonetheless, there's always a purpose. And, like everything else, they're temporal, and, therefore, terminal. Trying to hold someone in place might keep them from being that moment, if you will, for someone else. More to the point, it might keep me from either being that moment for someone or from experiencing my next moment. Life is growth. Growth is change. The more we fight the current of change, the more we miss. What I can do, however, is make sure that I realize every person that I meet has a value. From the P.Oed grocery clerk who throws my eggs in a bag, to the kind lady at the dry cleaners, to the students who encourage by their dedication (haha! and those who don't), I can recognize that they all serve some purpose in my life. Conversely, I serve a purpose in theirs. Really, that's the beauty of it all: that inspiration and a smile can--just as heartache can--come from the least expected places.

Perhaps it wasn't just sentimentality. Perhaps it was. Whatever it was, I've learned people will come into and will leave my life, and that the duration of their time varies. What's important is making sure that I remain open to inevitable end just as much as I am the beginning.

Ha! Who knew fish were so wise?

Twice, down this road...

Things are looking a bit familiar; it's both comforting and disturbing, though.

I've realized I'm (almost) full circle, here.

I'd like to say that I've learned my lesson. I suppose only time will tell.

This time, instead of impatiently running through, I'll take my time; feel it out. Every inch, every breath; I'll live in it.

I won't let myself get the best of me; I won't destroy my chances.

I'll be patient and I'll give my all, even if it breaks me: it'll be worth it; that much, I'm sure.

Full circle isn't such a bad thing, then (so long as the lesson's been learned).

It's a blessing, in disguise, really.

I won't mess this one up with my impatience.

Just in time.

Just a quick thought before I slip into slumber:

You're not fighting time; you're fighting yourself.

I'm beginning to realize that usually when we think that time is running out, it's not. What is running out is our patience and our ability to sit in a given situation. Time isn't as short as we make it out to be--it was here well before us, and will be here well after us. We just need to make ourselves match its vibrations. They're a lot slower and more steady than we think.

In all, the things we think we are going to lose, can't be held by rushing. The things that we are losing, can't be held by wishing time back. We end up blaming time for our inability to recognize the moment for what it is: life; a connection; a moment in all its preciousness. We let our fear of loss cloud the moment, and when it has passed, we say it was because time was too short. We rush the moments past us by constantly seeing ourselves in their endings, living there while the moment is around us.

All that can be done is to sit; enjoy the moments for what they are--the feel of a hand in your own; the taste of a kiss; the sound of your name leaving a caring mouth; the warmth of a smile. Things that are meant to be in your life will be. People who are meant to be in your life will be. Everything else goes with time.

Late night thoughts on words from a kind soul.

Sometimes, waiting is the hardest thing to do. In life, we try so hard to force our hand. Between dreams, actions and responses, and hopes and fears the only possible thing to do is to realize that there is nothing to do. Waiting can be more effective than any motion made.

So, instead of trying to force everything, learn to wait. Not everything requires you to wait, but the things that are worthwhile will; you'll know what they are, when they come. ^_^.

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