Why do I love and hate the desires of my own heart? Because they surge me towards what I want, at the cost of actually feeling that I am wanting. To live into my heart is to know the piercing of the unknown space between desire and the desired. It is to live into the unconsummated. It is to trust that my dreams will come true somewhere between now and never and maybe. Tonight, dreaming feels excruciating. I try to grip them tightly because I don’t want them to get away, but then I know they wilt for lack of freedom.
I want to embrace life’s unknowns but I have too much of a craving to control. I want results, satisfaction, arrival, or at least incremental steps that tell me I will arrive eventually. And yet, the journey is changing the point of arrival, so that I must surrender the destination even as I step towards it….
It is all rather risky business.
As Anne Shirley once said, and as a dear friend reminded me tonight, life has so much potential thudding, which makes soaring on the wings of anticipation rather hard, I’m afraid.
(Life context for this emotional purge: one teeny little morsel of an email from an editor, probably just a pseudo courtesy prelude email to the real official rejection slip that is coming…which somehow opened up the vast quantities of want I contain within me….)
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1 comment:
keep desiring, kim. i love your dreams...
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