Boy is it good to be home. A simple walk through green space accompanied only by the wild flowers and I am reminded of the peace so freely available to us. Yesterday I chose to ignore any pride and admit momentary defeat: I called my parents and asked them to pick me up from Lancaster and take me home. I couldn’t explain why over the phone, the words wouldn’t come to me. But I knew I needed some quiet time, some time of comfort, familiar voices of wisdom and care surrounding me to remind me of myself again.
In all truth, my writing and usual ability to romanticise the simplest things have not come forth under my request. And even when they have, they have felt lacklustre. I have felt suffocated yet all the while numb. You could even say ‘out of ideas’. The creativity I both crave and produce has not appeared, and even my lexical choices frustrate me because I just cannot find the words.
Now this is not a rambling of despair or one that lacks hope. In fact, as I write, then sun is forcing its way through the dark clous and the warmth captures my left cheek. I can see the bees take the pollen; hear the children climb the wooden frames of the park; see the toddler explore his immediate surroundings. It is so peaceful and I feel found rather than lost. The inner turmoil I am experiencing, bubbling away ferociously within, takes a moment to subside. And then I am subject to being a monument in a game of tig. The laughter of children and the pure smiles, oh what wonder.
I have always wanted to go further, to go deeper, to bring the world home. I don’t know how consciously I do that, and I usually only achieve it when I ignore voices and reality and through myself all in. And leave it all behind.
I wish I could bring so much more to the table but God’s grace is sufficient and I am enough. It is so difficult to get my head around that but it does bring me a comfort like no other. It is a weird kind of honour to hold that sentiment, to really feel God’s presence to my core and in everything. I will not lie, it is at times more unsettling than it is comforting. But I must stop second guessing myself and trust. He went before me, and was tested. There really is power like no other.
All of these feelings during exam season have knocked me off kilter and there are moments where I feel like a cavern, empty yet surviving. And the infuriating thing is I am stood there in the mirror, ‘hyping’ myself up, affirming great things over myself… But it all feels so selfish. So, so, so selfish. Yet when I go to give or act selflessly there is no energy there, and I am not able to fulfil enough to ease, and even cure, the emptiness.
Many people know me as a very positive person, and I am. I haven’t gone through great hardship and am certainly privileged but that doesn’t mean I don’t experience adversity, or feel like I am. I have had things to deal with that not many people know of but c’est la vie. And I trust God.
Writing and researching about the location of culture through architecture meant I was whacked over the head with the notion of duality. Yes, Homi K. Bhabha. And that includes many criticisms of his. I funnily enough did not get into discussing theories of cultural hybridity within my dissertation, at least in written form, but the simplicity of ‘there’s two sides to every coin’, or ‘every story’ has dumbfounded me. Maybe that has only elevated any feels and indecision.
I think I’ll leave you with those thoughts for now. Get back to you soon.