Someone I admired very much used to say “always hope.”
On days like today where the fog seems unbearably thick, I try to cling on to that.
On days where the world’s problems seem too big to ever be solved. Where your role in this world seems incredibly insignificant, possibly even pointless.
On days where the way out of pain seems too long and you cannot see the light at the end of it yet. When the fog is obscuring that light completely. How can you know it is still there?
When there are so many thoughts running through your head that you wish for some kind of sleep just to find darkness and peace within it.
There must still be hope. You can ground yourself in the firmness beneath your feet or the openness of the sky above you. The sky is still there, the ground is still holding you up. There are still sounds of the regular day like wind, cars driving by, birds, footsteps. Whatever it may be. That regular rhythm is still out there if you listen closely enough. Look up at the sky and remember that it is still there and will continue to be for as long as you look up and see it.
No matter how foggy your world seems.
There is always something or someone in this big, big world of ours. There is something or someone out there. You just have to look up, or reach out.
I found out the other day that sometimes you see a baby squirrel (see previous post) and now I have found out that sometimes there’s a spontaneous fireworks show or you happen to be in the exact right place at the exact right time for the lunar eclipse.
The last two nights the dark night sky has been lit up in some unexpected way that has allowed me a couple of moments of peace from the anxiety that plagues our every day. Last night I had a perfect view of the lunar eclipse– the first and probably the last time I see something like that so clearly. The word cool doesn’t really do it justice but nothing else really comes to mind. It was just cool. The weather was cool, the moon was cool, I was feeling calm and cool in myself as I watched it. I don’t really understand the science behind how that can happen, but knowing that would probably make it less magical anyway.
I used to be scared of the dark, of being outside at night. Things can jump out at you and you never know what is lurking. But lately I’ve noticed that those things that can come out of nowhere in the darkness can also be beautiful and full of light. Now I look forward to the peace and calm that comes when it gets dark and even hold out a little bit of hope for those rare night sky surprises.
I guess what all these things (including my favorite baby squirrel) have in common is that it is about looking for the good that appears every day (and night). It’s me realizing that if I take each day slowly and look around I can see small and large, surprising and beautiful parts of the world that I have missed up until now. I seek these out now because everything else in our world seems uglier and more difficult than ever before. Look out for the night sky surprises if you feel the same way.