I like to believe we hold a bit of refuge in each of us. When I’m confused or thrown off balance, when my head and my heart are working at different speeds, I like the steadiness of movement. My hands tapping across the keyboard. The tires of my car covering new ground. Visually, it helps me to know I’m getting somewhere, even if it’s only to the end of the page. The end of the block.
I used to think this was a control issue, needing to take a few steps in an entirely new direction in order for me to find my footing. This space, the freedom I find, the refuge I create for my own well being, isn’t an issue. It’s a need for control, yes. Stability. Breathing room. More importantly though, it’s a reminder that I’m capable of being my own refuge. I’m able to loosen my grip around the reigns of what I expect from everyone and everything because of this.
I’m not running away from the messiness, and at the same time I’m not frantically attempting to glue broken shards back together. I’m somewhere in-between. I’m sitting on a bench in front of the ocean, right before dusk. It’s still too hot to enjoy the view, but it’s more than worth it to wait it out. Dusk is coming.
For now, a bit of me is healed for simply getting here. To the end of this page. A bit of me is exposed, vulnerable, open. But more of me is restored.
I like to believe we hold a bit of refuge in each of us. Wherever you are, whatever you need, whatever or whoever you are desperately reaching out to, I implore you to trust yourself when it comes to filling in the cracks. Remedy yourself, sweet soul. Only you know how.
Dusk is coming.