Sometimes a war is never over — battles are won over extended periods of time, but the war always looms over the horizon. And it’s when you are faced with the horizon again that you realise that choices are inevitable.
I’m a quiet person in some respects (not everyone would agree!) to my personal life and it’s a choice that I consciously make because I cannot handle being a burden to anyone — especially my family and my friends. I don’t know why I am this way … I just know that I am and over time, I’ve learned to deal with this part of who I am and accept it as best I can.
I’ll tell you that during those times … my life is on a stage while in public. Nobody would ever know that anything is going on and for some reason, I have some sense of comfort and solace in that fact. I’ll admit — that’s odd and I can’t say that it’s always what’s best for me, but it ‘works’ and I wouldn’t have a clue how to change it … I feel like I’ve had to face and deal with things my entire life in my own little bubble and I don’t really know why, but … it is what it is.
I always turn to one poem when I need to prepare for what is overwhelmingly inevitable …
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Those words, by Robert Frost, always seem to make the horizon less frightening — as if I were merely five-years-old and in pursuit of some great adventure and not knowing any less than that.
Life is, after all, the art of struggling for survival … dealing with the battles that loom over that distant horizon for better or worse.
Here’s to life and its essentials and adventures,