When all around us is chaos, holding ones place in the universe is imperative. Holding to one thought, or one vision, in the midst of upheaval and strife on ancillary levels can be difficult, is difficult, but also essential.
The swirling of pressures and problems creates a wind that blows me off course. I fell like the captain of a ship in a storm at times. This storm is not to be blamed on the gods, it is my storm, of my doing. This provides little comfort in dealing with each wave that rocks the boat, but it does allow for clarity in coming to terms with how I got here. It also lays out before me the path of challenge to which I alone must navigate an end course. I am the storm. I am the captain. I am the ship.
The cigarette has likely extinguished itself in the lawn by now. I tossed it with a few centimeters remaining, as is my habit. Perhaps it comes from the advice of my mother once to always leave a little food on the plate. To avoid gluttony and its’ subsequent perils, it is an active decision to leave a little bit behind. Perhaps now is no longer the time for leaving a little food on the plate. Perhaps now is a time for devouring everything in my sight. For while holding back a morsel or two does achieve compliance with this most rational of ideals, it also leaves me unfull. I told myself to hold this moment, for as long as it burns. To find my center, to hold tight the balance that comes from what I love and what I wish to be – this was my personal directive this day. Sorry mom, I think I have to retire your advice and follow my own here.
I can not live a life unfull. To be correct, I can, I have, it isn’t that I am incapable of it, it is that in and of itself that concept stands in opposition to the very middle of me. I realize that leaving a little behind has practical applications. It allows one if they choose, to save for a rainy day that which is not needed at this very moment. It prevents the constant struggle to find anew the same resources that could have been saved. But it also promotes the spoiling of that which was left behind. How often will I really go back for what I left? It will most often end up being discarded anyhow, and where is the good in that? No, I shall not leave anything behind. It simply isn’t how I’m wired. I’ve attempted for too long, both conciously and sub-conciously, to heed this warning, but I can do so no longer.
I shall clean the plate. I shall empty the reserves. If these actions leave me hungry and drained, so be it, for these actions shall also leave me full. There is more to a life.