I was texting with two of my besties this morning, sharing about my angst yesterday, the sadness I was feeling. I shared because I knew they would understand, empathize without feeling sorry. See me. Hear me. Feel my story. They both did. And we talked about a few other things …
These human lives of ours are so big and monumental, while also dull and inconsequential, full of every emotion possible. At times I wonder how I endure it. Other times I recognize that enduring it isn’t the point. Enduring something is not fully living it. And living is what we’re called to do.
My contemplative practice has taught me so much. Nothing is good or bad. Life isn’t black and white. It just is. And in my estimation, my job is to feel it all, and to learn to live into it all with ease and equanimity.
But I’m human. It’s not easy. The phrase, “how human of me” comes to mind.