Picture a warm, breezy summer day. The trees are fully bloomed, leaves in various shades of green adorning the branches. Everything is bright, joyful, and very much alive. Then, a gust of wind picks up and just catches one of the leaves right, detaching it from its home. It gets caught in the blowing wind, and floats along in the sky, playing with the breeze as it glides this way and that.
That leaf is me.
I am bright, joyful, and very much alive. Yet, I do not pretend to understand the direction I am heading. My path is unclear and it feels as though the minute I start to settle in and enjoy the view from this angle, a gust of wind comes out of nowhere and shoves me elsewhere.
Somedays, it brings me peace to picture myself as this leaf, floating from here to there and enjoying the view as I go. It feels somewhat natural, now, to embrace the uncertainty.
But these last few days, I’ve wanted to snatch that damn leaf out of the sky and stuff it under a rock. I’m so sick and tired of getting shoved just when I start to feel like I understand my place in this life.
Things make sense. And then they don’t. And everything feels like it’s turning upside down once again. It’s becoming increasingly frustrating. Nothing makes sense.
I was talking with a close friend a couple weeks ago and she reminded me of something I’d been told ages ago by someone I trusted and respected and had proven herself as someone worthy of giving sage advice.
I am not meant to experience true, lasting, romantic love in this life. I won't be with my soulmate - that isn't what this life is for. This life, the one where I'm a stupid leaf, at the universe's mercy like a sick joke, is for lessons and growth.
I’m over it. I’m sick of the lessons. I’m sick of the sorrow that accompanies lost love. I’m sick of starting over. I’m sick of not feeling the beautiful reciprocity of the love that I put out into the world (romantic love, that is. I’ve got friendship and familial love down solid, thankfully). I’m sick of being so naïve as to believe that karma exists, that the good I put out will be received tenfold.
I honestly no longer believe in true, lasting love. I don’t think it exists for me, nor will it. I stopped believing in it a couple years ago, had a moment where maybe I could be convinced it was a thing, then the damn wind sent me tumbling again. There’s something that’ll be good enough, I guess, where the heart feels it to be sufficient. But what that wise woman said must be true, as my history and present proves it time and again. I won’t have my soulmate, I won’t feel loved in the way I so desire.
And, because I am a leaf, and there’s a bigger picture offering me perspective, I give in. I’ll accept the love that I am given, while I ache for something greater, because the ache will be a part of me, regardless of who I am with or where I am at or which path I get shoved to next.
The ache is the lesson. And this is my journey. So I willingly submit.
A Graceful Catastrophe 