Uncommon Musings

I’m always questioning myself.

I feel these pulls, these strands of light.

The other day, I listened to my friend tell me about how my discomforts creates thought distortions.

“How can you love this person?”, he said, “You don’t even really know them.”

Perhaps.

I listened, to the advice which would enable objective rationalism. To allow me to have control over my thoughts. To see what really drives them. To find the shadows in the cracks.

As I listened, I stared out the window of the 7th floor apartment, overlooking the ocean. The sun was just dipping over the mountains, entering the end of day.

And there is was, in the shadows. A light. This shimmering, sparkling glow. It settled around the reflection of a tanker. As I focused, and said hello, the light became brighter.

I felt it.

Warmth. Calm. Love.

All while listening to my friend, promising me a way to master my emotions.

But that’s just it. I don’t want to be a master.

I want the warmth. That enveloping, arms-around-me light, which fills the darkest parts of my own being.

A comfort.

Sure, I don’t know how this will play out. I love someone. I know they love me.

There are many kinds of love. I just can’t see how protecting ourselves from light leaves space for the warmth.

That warmth is what I am made of.

It is made of me.

I am light. I am glitter. I am brightness.

I will go where the love is. If I believe it will take me where I need to go. Then it will.

Just go where the love is.