A friend recently wrote this to me, “… as you ponder the meaning of life, don’t forget to factor in the meaning that you yourself make.” And there it is: Every single one of us has a place. We each and every one of us have an effect. I am certain. And that cannot be insignificant.
When I look back at this, now, I wonder that I was ever so certain. It stands in such stark contrast to my current pessimism. But I was positive. Enough to get me to leave my home of eight years in Utah, to buy land in a state I’d only visited once and to build a new home and a new life on my own in New Mexico.
And why should this matter to you? Why am I writing this to you? Because I think we are universal and the struggles I fight are the same as those you do. Because we are human. And there is no escaping it, my friends. We are in this together and whatever any one of us can do to help with that, matters.
I don’t get to just give lip service in a blog post to what I want and then have it happen. I don’t get to simply decide to accept my situation and then have it be somehow eased. I have work to do…
But something vital I’ve come to know is this: no matter how hard it is to hold on sometimes, we are not disposable. Our selves, our dogs, our relationships, are not to be shunted aside when they become too difficult.
Then it comes so clear to me: life is not what we leave behind. That’s history. Life is the living of it, in these moments when our hearts are beating in our chests, when our eyes gaze across the great beauties…
And my heart silently shifted back. Back to one who wants to believe again—even if that belief is somewhat fragile—in the making of marks on paper or canvas, just to be making marks.