Life is Tangled
I think it’s more like a big knotted ball of yarn.
I think the tendency is to see life as one long path. But really, I think it’s more like a big knotted ball of yarn with paths that criss-cross and tangle and wind from one part to another. One day you think you’re on a path to one place, and somehow you end up lost in the middle of something completely different.
That’s kind of how the world looks right now. Except that buried in this knotted mess of twisty paths are fragments of mirrors reflecting pieces of who I am.
Some of them are big showing me large parts of myself – I’m a mom with two kids, I’ve learned to be a mom to a special needs boy, I’m a wife who’s finally starting to understand my husband after 11+ years of marriage (sheesh! You’d think I’d have gotten it sooner, right?), I’m a teacher, I’m a worshiper, I’m a writer.
Others show me only small slivers – ones that don’t seem to fit, with jagged edges that tempt me to touch them – I want to create but don’t know what or how, I want stillness and a big comfy creamy chair to sink into with a good book (what is it with this cream/white chair thing? It’s always my first wish list thing – and a desk…), towering stacks of books, laptops and phones and electronics, my Google Trainer certification, my penchant for charts and structure (a.k.a. control)…
And sometimes along the way, there are the pieces that aren’t me. They’re the shoulds and ought-tos and you’d-better-or-elses that society says are me – getting stuck in my feet or picked up along the way.
Part of the pathway is collecting these shards and piecing them together somehow.
Or piecing them together and pulling them apart to remove the anti-pieces. That’s the tricky part.
Which pieces are me?
Which ones aren’t?
So, I’m learning to listen and test each piece. Does it speak to me, with clarity and hope? Does it whisper of mud and confusion? Does it feel like something that I can’t part from? Or does it feel like something I wish weren’t true?
Slowly, I unearth myself.