I'm stifled, pressured, slightly annoyed, angst-ridden and beginning to brood. I drink more coffee, but that only amplifies the restless stirring. Caffeine thrusts the anxieties into hyperspeed and I go with them soaring, but not enjoying the flight.
I try to take inventory of every little thing that passes me by. This makes my brain get heavy. "There's gotta be something beautiful in all of this, something worth preserving, something worth picking up, dusting off, and presenting to the world," I tell myself.
I scour my memories for a good word, listen to the birds for a good song and watch a cloud dissolve into a pretty sight. I sigh. I can't contain it. I cheapen it all with my attempts at categorizing and understanding it. It's the universe, it's everything, it's the rough draft and the finished product. It's beyond. It's above. It's within reach, but I'm just out of touch.
My attempts at understanding, and controlling everything, make kittens out of lions and turn ferocious awe into predictable comfort. The letdown is fear-induced; kittens can't bite my head off.
I suppose then that it's time to just let things go again. Just let it go.
I can't begin to grasp the terrible complexity of beauty, relationships, love and its chemicals, but I'll keep trying. I can't not try. I won't not try because I never don't not try.
I have this belief, which may be tortuously untrue, that all pain and discomfort can and should lead to something beautiful and inspiring. Otherwise, what's the point of pain? Days, months and years might be full questioning, wondering and weary hoping, but if they lead to moments (plural, let's hope for more than once) of raw truth exposed then all the drudgery of the preceding days can be contextualized by this single moment.
In the meantime, I'm enduring for the sake of those moments. Enduring, gritting my teeth, and looking for a lion. A real lion, with real sharp teeth.