Being Alive Takes Time

Being alive takes time. I wrote these words on a post-it note by my computer. These words have been sitting here for a few months now. I can't remember exactly what inspired me to write them down or where I found this statement. But here they are staring at me. Some days I wonder what the hell that statement even means to me. Some days I want to replace those words with, being alive is fucking hard. But let's face it, we need no reminder of that.

I know I'm not alone in saying that I've been feeling a pretty wicked malaise for awhile now. This malaise breaks on occasion with happy thoughts of Paris and my other upcoming travels. The malaise even breaks for a beautiful moon or a happy dog in passing. Yet, the malaise seems to pervade. It's just a matter of degree. And the malaise easily finds opportunity to feed itself on all manner of things. I got my hair done yesterday and opted to go lighter instead of darker. Immediately after, I felt irritated that I didn't go darker but I'd be feeling the opposite if I had done the opposite. Just below the surface, I know full well that it isn't the hair. It's just an opportunity for that malaise to manifest itself in apparent ways... in this case, every time I pass a mirror. Oh, that malaise knows what it is doing!

When I think about this malaise, I think about how hard we can be on ourselves. I truly read other bloggers' feelings about their/your own malaise, frustration, anxiety, exhaustion with it all... and I feel that they/you are so very courageous. I fully appreciate the honesty of such expression and I see incredible human beings tackling life with passion and authenticity. I feel connected and compassionate. I know that there is no success without failure, no courage without fear. I embrace this struggle in others. However, I just see myself as a hot mess.

Being alive is difficult and that is why it takes time. I don't perceive this statement as asserting that it takes a certain amount of time to reach "aliveness" but rather, once we commit to being fully alive, it takes patience and time to grow. That choice to be fully alive comes with great (and often rather painful) awareness. We are aware of who we are, where we've been, what patterns we've been automatically following that might be incongruent with who we really are. And that is a heavy load. Of course we will feel malaise, sadness, frustration, loss, anxiety. Huge changes are afoot for all of us.

There is a duality in everything and a degree to that duality. The more we dare to be alive, the more likely we will feel the depths of pain. But with such comes tremendous heights of happiness, too. There is no escaping sadness, pain, struggle. And why should there be? The struggle is essential. These are the times we really discover what we are about, what matters to us, what splintering path we are to take on this journey.

And no, we can't fully appreciate this on our own. We are hard on ourselves, we see failure instead of valiant effort, weakness instead of strength. But we have each other. In just the last two weeks, reading about your various struggles has made me stronger, more brave, more accepting of my own struggles. Thank you all for that! I don't read your blogs because you have exciting lives, because you live in France or are planning to. I read your blogs because you are authentic and share a part of yourself that transcends place and the material. You are alive and not only does that take time but it takes balls tremendous courage and strength of character. I consider myself so fortunate that each of you share yourselves so freely and beautifully. It is a steady source of inspiration.

The only other quote I have at my desk right now is a Chinese proverb postcard that reads, "do not fear slow progress, but do fear stagnation." Be gentle with yourselves, dear readers. And I'll promise to try and do the same for myself. And when that fails us, we have one another to lean on. Thanks for holding me up so willingly!