Why do I find myself here? I said this blog gives me no release, yet I come back every few months. I’d just scribble this in my journal, but typing feels better right now.
I love life. I love living. I know that even difficult emotions and occurrences are a blessing, because the alternative would be nothing. I have never felt a personal despair so deep that I couldn’t be marginally thankful for.
But then there are other despairs that break me– the despairs of people I never knew, people I encountered once or twice, close friends. I think of Sandra Bland and her confused and burdened family. I think of Cameron Redus, who’s story I fear is fading. I think of Christian, who’s heart will never be the same.
I want to love more people than I do. I feel deep sympathy and sorrow for others, but I can only say I truly love a handful of people. As a human, I have more to give. As an emotionally resilient person, I have the ability to help. As a fellow being stumbling through the mysteries and glories of life, I have more compassion to share.
“Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs. We are, and must be, one and all, burdened with faults in this world…with this creed revenge never worries my heart, degradation never too deeply disgusts me, injustice never crushes me too low…”