It's a good thing its Friday. That means tomorrow's Saturday. That means tomorrow is the day I can go ride for a few hours, and right now I really need to go be on a horse.
As much as this was a productive week (I cleared out the jungle in the front that used to be a vegetable garden. Cleared it to the ground. Go, me) it has also been a very difficult week emotionally. First there was this, and believe me it has been a very difficult time at work. Everyone is emotional, odd things and comments set off random bouts of tears. Not only that, but someone close to me is having an enormous personal struggle, and I'm worried very much about their safety and well being. And frankly, when I read the news, I sort of understand why people feel so damned hopeless. This is a hard world we live in, and we are in frightening times of late. On top of everything else, my dog Lady has really been on my mind lately. I'm missing her so much it takes my breath away sometimes.
Friday nights are hard, as well, because the kids are at their dad's, and even though I often relish my quiet time, and I get my time to ride on Saturdays because they are spending time with J, I still miss them. I always feel a little at loose ends on Friday nights. I don't go out much, so its just me and the critters. Half the time I eat a bowl of cereal standing in the kitchen, watching Olbermann and wondering why I'm such a pathetic homebody.
In this little corner of the world, I look at all the voices clamoring for attention. I know I'm one of them, a speck among the multitude, seeking relevance, seeking understanding, seeking connection. At the beginning and the end of it all, and most of the time in between, we are truly alone with ourselves. We suffer pain alone. We can seek out comfort from others, we can receive solace from the support and love of those around us, but ultimately each of us bears our own pain in our own way, and no one else knows its depths or its breadth. Thinking of the pain of others often releases me from the necessity of dealing with my own feelings. It tends to remind me, as well, that even when my life seems very small, insignificant and challenging, I have many blessings and that spending time dwelling on what is painful isn't really a helpful way to spend my time. Still, its there. For all of us.
How do we find hope and meaning in all of this?
Faith helps me. I don't know if there's a "grand plan" for my life, but I have the hope that there's something more, something greater. My friend Charles tells me there is. Actually, he tells me a lot of jokes, too, and you know those help.
My children help me. How can I not look on these faces and feel that my life has meaning, has purpose?
I can also look at the kindness of friends and family, like Michelle, who every Saturday blesses me by coming by with her horse trailer and taking me out to the trail. Like my brother, who every time he comes to visit me takes my kids to play for a couple of hours and then cooks me dinner on top of it. My online community, who send me tweets and leave me comments, and give me so much support just by being there.
And I see things like this . And I remember that despite all in this world that is painful and hard and scary, that there really IS love and hope. And sparkly unicorns that leave glittering piles of happy.
And I still get to ride tomorrow.
