It always seems that while I'm in the midst of finishing one post, something distracts me and I'm on to another. This is one of those times. Over the last few days, I've talked with a number of friends. Each and every one is dealing with some sort of crisis or situation and each could use, I believe, some encouragement. You know who you are. And this is for you:

"Dark shadows close me in, creeping ever nearer, obscuring the truth, the light. Hope fleetingly fades and the horrors of the past and the present become overwhelmingly harsh, choking off even the gasping, short breaths I try to manage. Reason fades, clarity dims, only the darkness is visible. Am I seeing from my mind's eye? Are my eyes even open? How can I be expected to think with such crowded, dark, spiraling ephemeral thoughts. I follow one wisp of a memory, which quickly slips into another and then another. I've lost track of where I started and where I was going. Was I remembering or predicting? I am undone and cannot free myself, all hope is lost.

But can hope, the bastion of humanity, truly be lost? I ponder the absurdity of life without hope. I ruminate on the inability to live a future without a past, envisaging the heaps of bags that I carry through life from one situation to the next. In each instance, I sift through the contents of endless trunks sorting out what emotion to wear draped upon me like a ill-fitting dress, what past experience to wear as my sunglasses shielding me from the harsheness of the landscape, what personality trait to walk in, hoping it will be a comfortable fit and appropriate for the road I am about to walk. All the while, the trail of luggage follows me interminably, growing with each passing conversation, each experience, each day.

Is hope so elusive? Constantly fluttering just out of reach, caught by the dark winds? Can hope exist, even in the darkness? At night, when I turn down the lights, does the table cease to exist? Or the bed on which I am laying...is it less a bed in the dark than in the light? If I close my eyes, does my room disappear? I think not. And so, as I am surrounded by the inky, oppressive labyrinth, I cling to the hope I know is there. At first, it is a thready whisper. My grip tightens and the hope thickens, gaining substance. The thread becomes a skein, the skein takes shape. Slowly, almost unnoticably, the darkness slowly begins to dissapate. I can see the faintest outline, a silhouette. I cleave myself to the hope, which leads me through the calignosity. My vision sharpens, shapes begin to form as the faintest glint is revealed, slowly at first, then rapidly gaining brilliance. Soon, my hope is pulling me forward and I'm enveloped in luminescence so bright I see no darkness. I squint, trying to adjust to what I'm seeing. Slowly, in awe, I realize I am surrounded - not by darkness or despair. I am surrounded by those who care most for me, those I once called friends. As I wandered blindly, they came around me, gently and carefully guiding me into the warmth of the light."

Labels: Friends, Reflections