Admitting Defeat

Things seem so complicated sometimes.  So many plans and responsibilities.  So many reveries and dreams and memories.  So much behind and so much ahead.

Sometimes it gets to be too much for me.  My brain reaches capacity and it sort of shuts off.  I guess that’s probably not a good thing.

But sometimes it feels really good.

In times like these, I seek out the lovely things in life.

I like warm blankets and tea.  I like yarn, and I like to make things for people I care about. I like talking to friends and trusting people.

That’s always a hard one for me.  I don’t find it easy to trust, and trusting too much causes most of my problems.  But when things get to be too much, I get too sick of trying to figure out who to trust, trying to figure out the rules of the game, trying to maneuver in a social world that sometimes just seems too savvy for my skills.

I just want to sit down, lay it all out, and live in kindness.

I used to love the word, beautiful.  I loved the grandeur of it.  I loved the passion it invoked.  I loved its spark.

But these days, I find myself seeking out loveliness rather than beauty.  To me, what is lovely is just as true and honest and pure as that which is beautiful.  But it’s also simple and peaceful and unassuming.  Loveliness doesn’t seek; it doesn’t boast; it doesn’t shine.  Rather, it resides.

When my world gets dark and cloudy, all I really want are the lovely things.  And to seek them out, I just have to stop trying to function in a world that all too often doesn’t make sense.  I can shrink things.  I can narrow my focus.  I can stop trying to fit in a world I don’t fit into.

I can just lay it out and lay it down and admit defeat.

I’m not big enough for this world.  I’m not smart enough or savvy enough or jaded enough.  I’m simply me.  And all I want is to breathe.