March. And the days keep unspooling. Changes are in the air. I can feel the buzz, hear the hum of it in the air. I can feel the vibrations of unwanted things to come. Why must this be so? There are no answers. The world issues a certain statement, of which we live by. Sometimes it is just too hard.
I should be happy and proud and self satisfied. I did another triathlon over the weekend. Conquered the water much better than I did the first time. Aside from having to battle the headwind during the bike leg, the race went perfectly as planned. True, a lot of preparation and training had gone into this performance. But I have no words of praise or self congratulatory sentiments for myself. It seems I have wiped clean my vocabulary in that area.
I continue to feel a certain hollowness, a sort of anxious emptiness in the pit of my gut. And turmoil in my head over the necessary changes that have already been foreseen.
The “why” questions keep echoing through my mind. I cannot seem to comprehend the things that must merely be so. This incomprehension is not unlike the times past in school when four to the power of root five equals a certain number. I would ask why, and the teacher would berate me. It’s simply so, I was told. And I would stand in the corner of the class, not disbelievingly, but simply not understanding.
And yet I wanted to understand so desperately. If I could have understood, it would make sense and my world could be brighter, better. I’m sure of that.
But maybe I wasn’t meant to know. Not meant to be part of the “in” crowd.
That’s how it feels.
I should be happy and proud and self satisfied. I did another triathlon over the weekend. Conquered the water much better than I did the first time. Aside from having to battle the headwind during the bike leg, the race went perfectly as planned. True, a lot of preparation and training had gone into this performance. But I have no words of praise or self congratulatory sentiments for myself. It seems I have wiped clean my vocabulary in that area.
I continue to feel a certain hollowness, a sort of anxious emptiness in the pit of my gut. And turmoil in my head over the necessary changes that have already been foreseen.
The “why” questions keep echoing through my mind. I cannot seem to comprehend the things that must merely be so. This incomprehension is not unlike the times past in school when four to the power of root five equals a certain number. I would ask why, and the teacher would berate me. It’s simply so, I was told. And I would stand in the corner of the class, not disbelievingly, but simply not understanding.
And yet I wanted to understand so desperately. If I could have understood, it would make sense and my world could be brighter, better. I’m sure of that.
But maybe I wasn’t meant to know. Not meant to be part of the “in” crowd.
That’s how it feels.