When I was younger, my thinking was much more black and white.
Some people go through their whole lives without seeing the nuances; for me it was simply a time. I hadn’t yet realized that in some way, we are all the same. Our lives all start out and then what follows is merely a series of choices. For the first little while it’s our parent’s choices- assuming we are lucky enough to have parents that are present- and if we are very, very lucky, their choices will give us an advantage.
From then on, we’re on our own. And that’s when we become who we are. When we truly have the freedom to make a long sequence of choices, these choices will make up our lives. They assemble our character- they become our legacy.
We all diverge.
Some of us will see our lives unfolding and wish to be better at living. Some of us will see how our shortcomings are creating misery in our own souls- and we’ll wish to be something better. Make better choices, go farther; wish to see how far we can go into joy and love and happiness. Wish to laugh more. Sing more. Relax more. Wish to love, love, love.
Now that I am not so young of heart and mind, I like to think about how we are all the same, in our small moments. I like to remember that in our small moments, we are all human in the same ways.
I like to imagine someone else I know living their life in the same simple ways that I do. I imagine them brushing their teeth. Thinking about their girlfriend or boyfriend. Laughing at something to themselves- and I like to imagine how far and how deep the laugh might go. You should try it, you cute little blueberry. Have you ever consciously imagined the narrative of someone else’s life? Because their narrative is happening, and it would remind you of you and me.
We’re all just here in the eye of a crazy and beautiful storm together. Each and every one of us, we make life complicated and confusing and beautiful and scary and magical for each other. Life is hard for everyone. Life shines in everyone.
Y’ever done that one where you: are scared and confused, overwhelmed by the immensity of the weight you feel on your shoulders, and you sink against a wall, into a bed, into the floor face first, into the never-ending white of the ceiling, and you sink into your own well of sadness, and the tears are so hot, like they were boiling over out of your weepy, bubbly little teapot eyes, and the steam of it all makes you look like a child?
I know this happy thing to do where: I walk down the street with my headphones on and I listen to a song that makes me smile, and I smile at all the people that smile back at me. I like to do this thing where I feel like I am dancing but no one else can tell. It’s a dance I do by walking and smiling and seeing the world passing by.
You and I have: both separately seen something that made our heart fill our senses completely; made us feel like each breath was an inhalation of the greatest mercy; made us feel that our every cell was weeping with gratitude. We have seen something we needed.
Oh- you, and me, and all those pretty fish in the sea. We really do have so much in common.