No. 15
YOUR gift
DEAR LIFE…
“ I started this letter last week while sitting behind my desk at work. I was deeply inspired – moved by love and wonder, to handwrite a letter to you with the intention to share it via this platform. One week later and I’m writing to you on my laptop because I left the original letter to you in my diary. I was standing in a TSA line when I had that realization. That’s just what you are, life.
Original letter or not, this isn’t the first one I’ve written to you. Back in August of 2019, I wrote you a really dark letter. This one is less dark.
I wrote then that you had been unkind to me and that our relationship was complicated. I still feel that way most of the time. Back then, I was trying to live with a broken heart and a broken spirit. I’ve attempted at that many times since. I’ve lost joy and I’ve lost belief. I have understood what it feels like to feel that everything is impossible. Even breathing. No one asks to be here but we are by some sort of scientific chance. We get picked and then we’re forced to participate. We’re supposed to feel lucky about that. Despite the brokenness, the loss, and the impossibilities. I didn’t used to feel lucky, rather “toyed with”. But I don’t anymore. Not presently. That’s who you are, life.
And maybe it isn’t chance at all.
“Wakarusa”- By A.L.N.I don’t understand you. The minute I try and look for a method or reason — something consistent, I’m reminded that the only consistent thing about you, is that you’re so inconsistent. I can expect you to be painful. I expect to feel disturbed and desolate. It’s when and for how long I feel those things that I can never correctly calculate. That’s why you’re a gift.
Because I don’t always feel that way and I’m recognizing that I never write to you acknowledging when I feel the opposite. So that’s what this is.
There’s an area in the middle of the bad times … when I listen to love songs and for a little while, believe what they say. These are the good times … where I can’t find anything bad. Maybe the good makes the bad worth it. Maybe I only understand what is good because I have known what’s bad. Or vise-versa.
I’m sorry that I never think about expecting good. It sort of just happens. It catches me by surprise and I still end up taking it for granted. Then I complain about good times being rare. They are rare, I just shouldn’t complain about that. I’m working on being more mindful.
Life, I appreciate that you give me chances. And I don’t just mean opportunities to take and new experiences to have. I mean that you simply allow space to feel okay. To not always feel bad.
To listen to love songs and believe what they say.
You give me choices and perhaps I don’t always make the right ones. But I believe that everything works out the way it’s supposed to — that there is always purpose. Even a purpose for leaving one of my diaries in a different state. So do I ever really make a choice that is wrong?
I live near a lake and sometimes, I drive along the shore. I watch the water knowing I should pay more attention to the road, but I can’t. The water moves so perfectly and I’m in awe that it does so. Nothing needs my permission to work, it just works. With or without me. So it’s a gift.
I know people that I get to call mine. They’ve been here since I took my first breath and some of them, I’ve loved since kindergarten. But I’ve also met new people and they feel like home. How is that possible? I don’t know. But it’s special. And anything special is like a gift.
All this to say, I’m doing really well right now and I don’t know why. It’s strange and honestly, I’m skeptical and find myself anticipating when I’ll feel bad again. So until then, thank you for what you are. You’re this largely mystifying period of time that I share with others and at the same time, you’re mine. That’s why you’re a gift. And yeah, I really don’t think i’m here by chance. “
Yours And Yours Truly,
Ashley
