Limits As The Way: Part IV

I am visualizing the boundaries of my life and to my right, I see another day, and it looms so heavy. I am wary and weary already though we’ve not yet met. The blank slate, the empty canvas, the what-might-be all lose a bit of their luster when stained with ennui and sullied by obsessive thoughts, and I very almost always hesitate here and fight the impulse to turn away. I almost melt into the reflection in the mirror. I almost dive back into my oceanic grief. I almost walk headlong into that dark forest, rather than face my own chronic disappointment and frustration and disgust.

But, “another day” glimmers faintly like an aura and I fix my gaze, fix my will to keep staying and keep going. This mind, a limit. A boundary. A frontier. Mine to explore. Mine to learn and relate to and know very well.

I notice the spaces between the sticky thoughts, and how these spaces widen sometimes when I don’t try to force it, when I set to work upon the not-perfect canvas and use whatever I have available to make my mark, and I don’t worry about whether it’s good, whether it’s right, whether it’s art. I keep making a life from another day.

The limits of my life show me what is here for me. The boundaries and restrictions and challenges of my life make apparent the real, raw materials available for me to use, to do what is mine to do with the time I have.

My limits are not in the way
of me living my life.

My limits are the way
of living my life.

…

When It’s Hard And It Hurts And There Is No Promise Of A Happy Ending

Remember that your striving is noble. Your toil is honorable. Living each day as your small self, as if how you live matters, is a worthy undertaking. Your ordinary everyday being and doing is significant enough. To live with the unknowable, not grasping for answers, solutions, and promises of better times ahead… but staying, still. Do not abandon yourself. This is the work.