“Twenty odd years ago… a revolution was born.” That is what I want my epitaph to say. Isn’t it strange that someone so young, fragile and vulnerable thinks so often of melting into oblivion? Maybe it isn’t because there is laughter in that too, an incredible lightness of being.
I look around and see shadows, so many. Of varying heights perhaps of different shades too. Oddly human these shadows are. Each incomplete, aching for some sort of fulfillment, a sort of meaning. The truth if there ever was one is that there really isn’t meaning. In all the swirling shadows we look to see beyond- find some clarity, a clear defining shape when perhaps there isn’t. Perhaps that is the education, that each cloud has a lesson for us. We are so steeped in our own ‘identities’, swinging to our own tunes….
The little spark of teenage, teh sobreity of the middleage and me stuck in between all these definitions. Why must I try so hard to be. Perhaps because to be is also a challenge- a challenge like none other. One that none of of us has ever been known to have conquered.
It is these conflicts that can tear a person apart. Deeply from the inside. How do I explain to myself what I already know? How do I accept that I cannot design every little detail? How do I stop myself, when I know I have really not tried enough?
All that I want is to wake up one fine morning and figure that it has been one long nightmare. To walk out into the day and find all the ice melting, orchids peeping out from beneath grey boulders and trees bursting into bloom.