Do you ever feel like you’re wandering on the edge of a revelation; as if you’re about to discover some great nugget of wisdom? I’ve felt this way before, but not for so many consecutive days. It’s usually just a few moments in the midst of studying.
I’m uncomfortable with existing in this state. It feels like catching the scent of bread baking and not remembering when I put the loaf in the oven. How long has it been in there? Is it almost ready? How will I know when to take it out? It smells wonderful, but am I about to let it burn?
If I meditate on the surrounding subject, will I discover what’s behind this feeling, or will it disappear and pretend it never existed? Will I find that the wisdom I hoped to find was really just indigestion?
“Their lives are better now,” sounds so arrogant. Is it true in the ways it matters? Empirically, yes. Is it true in the ways I hoped for my children?
I didn’t have nine months to dream dreams for them. I’ve never had the space to do that. We’ve been surviving through the months, fighting off dragons, but the fulfilled life I hoped for my children… I haven’t given them that.
I’ve given them security and safety and guidance, but not my dreams… Not enough. They’re children, and I’m their guardian. How can I let them flourish without my dreams for them?
This is what comes from being guarded. I didn’t even realize I was holding back. Their stars are changing, but what constellation will they live under?