relery.untamed
Open Hearts Open Minds
You know when time just hits you? The abundance of it; The limitations of it. The inability to rewind it or see beyond it. The flashbacks and memories that you love and hate. The regrets and mistakes. The breakthroughs and the nuances. Everything that is wrapped in past time: old faces, love, hurt, and the journey. The point when your mind catches up to the pace of your life and you ask, "How did I get here?" I sometimes envision walking back through the timeline of my life in the setting of a forest. Beautiful trees down a long dirt path filled with snapshots in memories of people, events, and words that meant something. Years and dates marking each tree as I walk by. Some groups of trees are lush and green, flourishing in growth and abundance. Some are orange and red, fiery and burning. Some are fading. Each grouping highlights different faces and different places. Music changes with each step, time-stamping a feeling that takes me back to those moments when I hear it. I walk by as though I’m reading through chapters of my personal autobiography titled “How I got here and how incredibly messy it was”. But also, “Where I’m going and my gosh, is it beautiful.” I struggle with past time. How deep I feel my chest ache when I look at a picture of what once was. How my stomach rises to my throat when I think of past mistakes or who I once was and never wanted to be. The sadness I feel in loss, even if it was necessary for my growth. The beauty and grievance of change. I struggle with present time. The anxiousness I feel trying to balance what I need to do and what I want to do. How much of a battle it is for me to sit still in a moment and also feel urgency to act on goals and dreams. I struggle with future time. How terrified I feel thinking about death and not living the life that I “should have” lived. The fear I have in not accomplishing all the things I want to do while I’m here. The fear of choices. The fear of loss. The fear of the unknown. I went to a concert last night and time was highlighted by one of my favorite artists, Dermot Kennedy. I admire him for his poetic nature and depth of his lyrics. In one of his songs, he had us sing with him: “And even though this life, this love is brief - I’ve got some people who carry me.” I stood hand in hand with my boyfriend and slowly lowered my head to his shoulder as I let tears fall. This life. This love….. It’s brief. It’s not forever. There are no guarantees. There is no crystal ball. There are no take-backs. There is no explanation. There is no stopping. There is just time. And it is brief. The vastness and the fleeting nature of time are both things that overwhelm me. But no matter where I’m walking, whether it’s through my past, present, or daydreaming about my future, I see love. Lots and lots of unwarranted, sometimes undeserved, yet never-ending love in the people who carried me. In big ways and small. In soft and loud words. In timeless hugs and heartfelt tears. In placing a roof over my head and food on my plate. In listening for hours on end. In asking how I was doing. In everything in-between. The tears fall in appreciation for the time I have had. The time I still have. The time that I'll never know. And the people who carry me through each chapter of my life. Passing me off from one to the other, year by year, place by place -- some hands are familiar and some are new. But I remember the touch of each one, and I could never forget. Who and what are you carrying or being carried by in this season of your life? I encourage you to acknowledge those things. Those people. Because this time is brief. Fill it with love, with people, with play, with laughter, with hard work, with fulfillment, with nature, with travel -- fill it with what carries you.
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Becoming who I am without the world telling me who to be.-Rachel (R) Elery Archives
March 2021
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