Lifeboats and small good things

In-betweenness. Sinking or navigating the storm. Protecting or giving it all up. Staying or leaving.  Sanctuaries turned into prisons. The borderline is not a place of peace, but of being torn in two halves: hoping and giving it all up. 

Perhaps what matters the most is what you leave behind in people, although they won't remember it. And we are all covered in billions of fingerprints of others, most of them not even knowing that they are there, on us, whether we accept it or not. In all the chaos, and chains of narcissism, the small good things keep you breathing: from passing people who see you as "mother's mothering" or compare you, unknowingly, with the people who once shaped you. 

And perhaps, in this borderline, these small good things are our lifeboats. 

  

Long Dark Night

Nick Cave’s latest album somehow echoes the depths of one’s soul, the struggle to find peace in this world, of letting go – of trauma, pain, or dreams deferred – of jumping into life, but learning how to float inside of it.

We only live once, or at least we remember this one life until that final day. And still, days repeat themselves moment by moment: we wake up, we go to work, we return home. We do our chores on repeat, and from time to time we have our moments of joy: a child smiling, or hugging, a friend’s calling, a walk in the forest, all the things, and all the people we long to, whom we call family or sanctuary. From time to time we dare to try more. And we take a step back from the routine and a step forward into the unknown.