Earlier this evening, my wife and I were sitting in the restaurant of the hotel where we are staying. As she enjoyed a wonderful bowl of seafood chowder, I was struggling with an emotional crisis. I bounced back and forth between engagement and disengagement. My wife, being the wonderfully understanding, perfect being that she is, kept her connection with me without pushing.
I can't really be pushed.
As I sat, and chatted, and joked, humour being my greatest weapon, most reliable crutch, strongest shield, and most potent deflector when I struggle my struggles, I happened to glance down at the spoon that I had unconsciously picked up, and which was now balancing on my index finger. My eyes locked on the utensil as it teetered to a halt on its forefinger fulcrum, and in that instant, I realized something. Or, more accurately, I remembered.
There are some things you will never be able to accurately explain or describe so that another will understand. It's all a matter of perspective. What you see and hear and feel is unique to you, depending on where you are, who you are, where you've been. Even the simplest of experiences can be unique to you, like the way the light and colour in the ceiling reflects off the concave surface in front of you as the most brilliant pink strip, and the impression this sight makes on you in your state of mind at that moment. That's ok, though. No one has to understand everything about you, any more than you have to completely understand another person.
If you're truly fortunate, as I am truly fortunate, then you have someone with whom you can share your feelings and thoughts. Even when I have these realizations, these reminders that there are some things that I could never adequately explain, I don't ever have to feel alone.
The struggle having passed, I rather enjoyed dessert.
I can't really be pushed.
As I sat, and chatted, and joked, humour being my greatest weapon, most reliable crutch, strongest shield, and most potent deflector when I struggle my struggles, I happened to glance down at the spoon that I had unconsciously picked up, and which was now balancing on my index finger. My eyes locked on the utensil as it teetered to a halt on its forefinger fulcrum, and in that instant, I realized something. Or, more accurately, I remembered.
There are some things you will never be able to accurately explain or describe so that another will understand. It's all a matter of perspective. What you see and hear and feel is unique to you, depending on where you are, who you are, where you've been. Even the simplest of experiences can be unique to you, like the way the light and colour in the ceiling reflects off the concave surface in front of you as the most brilliant pink strip, and the impression this sight makes on you in your state of mind at that moment. That's ok, though. No one has to understand everything about you, any more than you have to completely understand another person.
If you're truly fortunate, as I am truly fortunate, then you have someone with whom you can share your feelings and thoughts. Even when I have these realizations, these reminders that there are some things that I could never adequately explain, I don't ever have to feel alone.
The struggle having passed, I rather enjoyed dessert.
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