Disappointment pervades our world. The whispers of disillusionment and defeat manifest in the faces I pass, the conflicts that fissure the world and my world, the laments of artists such as The 1975, the silent tears of weary souls. I feel the ache of being human. I have known exhaustion, anxiety, fear, remorse, loneliness, and mental darkness. There are sorrows to grieve. Yet, I have also known peace, compassion, fulfillment, friendship, love, and meaning. There is beauty to remember. And remembering is critical.
I like to journal. But, in all honesty, I am not a consistent journaler. For me, journaling is a space for me to release my emotions, my exhaustion, and all the ponderings pirouetting within me that I cannot articulate in speech. It is cathartic, it helps me process, and it clears my mind. Through journaling, I take my thoughts and anxieties out of my headspace and tuck them in a drawer, satisfied by the knowledge that they are somewhere. This week, after I penned my usual muddle of thoughts and feelings, I decided to pause to consider what I felt grateful for, what had touched my soul. Initially, I thought two bullet points would be sufficient. However, as I reflected on my week, I recalled different moments of beauty, plucking them like wildflowers on a deserted road.Continue reading