A complete list couldn't be warranted. No one knows the complete truth about the mystery that compels us. Some of us need quiet time to wonder and contemplate about the breeze or the way sunshine feels or the intent behind the hand caressed by yours.
We don't truly know any perspective beside that of our own. It can be a source for anxiety or even peace depending on a variety of factors. But there are no more important elements than the one we base our decisions on. In a life where the worst thing that happened to me was a seed of doubt, I have little to fret over. The little is enough to stem the courage I believe I have inside, needed for the efforts required in my destiny. It is a choice, and if you prepare, not one you will suffer as greatly for. All change hurts a little for the letting go. And until we trust ourselves to the seasons before us, we are in the dark, senses betraying an alien manifest.
This is each year of my life and fear is the stabilizer. It always has been. How we judge the calming effects of hesitation can be viewed over a life time of perilous waters, not for the chances taken but for those passed up to maintain an equilibrium in the mounting expanse of our potential. Venture too far out and you can, and perhaps will, get lost. The acquisition of personal power is not without an element of danger. If your will is too wide, too far reaching, you may thin out and lose your connection to anywhere and anyone.
The void is worthy of fearing. And the fear is its own danger. It may hold you in the grip of the thing you loathe, and the relationship is intense for its proximity to your thoughts. Obligations keep you busy. Distractions keep you away. The world was meant to be engaged as an adventure. But we are complacent in the immediate. Time passes. Opportunities dwindle. Energy becomes stagnant. And the question arrives: Is it worth it? What I'm doing, where I'm going, the people I'm involved with, the patterns I've invested in? Not thinking is easier and widely considered the higher alternative. Speculation is tied to indecision; a negative. It's sad that realization has become an island.
All the while you trade external experiences for internal ones and vice versa. You beat around the bush, circling the truth defined by the limitations you refuse explore. The silhouette of a different life takes mold and old decisions come to the surface; old mistakes perhaps and chances long gone.
"What is Love?
Baby don't hurt me.
Don't hurt me,
Yeah I know. : P
It's a classic that speaks to something generally untouched but all too common. We can build a dream in something that has no place for us and the prospect of taking control and building that place seems daunting for the lack of consideration from the environment or the minds that police it.
The relationship you want, the career you want, the home you want. Everything else is some extraneous side-story to the needs of today's children. Survival is an emotional, social thing now. Living means connecting. And some of us strive for the strength to turn the connections true and to make our hearts soluble or solvent. We need homes for the heart and mind and when we can't have them at the time we feel we need them, we suffer.
It all comes down to the quiet. It's fair to wonder if you're truly happy. Cynicism being the trend in the modern era, even the question is a painful practice because of what it means; primarily vulnerability. No is invulnerable and yet everyone moves forward. Everyone acknowledges the truth in some way; if not that they're lonely, that they do exist in a solitary viewpoint. Your environment's understanding is not guaranteed. The danger is in dissolution and a thousand smiles can't make up for genuine silence among the family you make.
The lost boys and their leader had their happy thoughts and it gave strength. It's childish to think something that simple can help people fly and be brave. I've spent a long time seeing the silly in it and protecting myself against thoughts that threatened my constitution and pointed at dreams I've long since abandoned. I did it because accepting these influences would make me subservient to unrealistic wishes, incapable of the strength I so desired; unable to live independent from the errant machinations of chivalrous dreaming.
It's bullshit but the world has no problem prizing the fantastic as fiction and in commune we follow the faiths of our projected ideals, each of us in secret revelry of a worlds full of justice and love requited and life-glory. We go home and hold our wishes deep down as the days pass until they are partially forgotten or the obligations return to claim time away from the spirit's endeavor to proceed as it should.
I've been blessed with a great dream, and the will to form it was . . . altered, sometime ago. I search now for the way to accept that the dream has always been stronger than its obstruction, that indeed the obstructions are the consequence of fears for the truth being real and a world truly capable of accepting the glory we may yet form in it. At the bottom, I see something sensible and fundamental in the thought that what makes us strong doesn't exist. It is woven into dark fabric representing the chaos of all possibility. It is the virtue reflected off our hearts, unattainable, beautiful, infinite.
Is that OK? To never truly have something, and spend your life creating it? In our wildest dreams we say YES! I never exploited that energy. I will try.