#56 - Rose colored glasses

My mind seems to be racing a mile a minute, making it impossible to capture a thought long enough to write.  Wondering as I sit here if it is guilt or relief. I can't quite grasp it.  I have done nothing wrong except to be brutally honest. I allowed my true thoughts and feelings to be released into the universe but they came out sharp as knives, cutting those who were in their way.  Like a cornered dog looking for a way to escape, feeling pressured into a tiny space which was just too small to survive in lashing out at the hand reaching in and biting, drawing blood.  The hand retracts quickly, the painful bite leaving a lasting impression that will cause distrust and fear.  Neither will come out of this unscathed.

More thoughts swirling around.  Love, pain, escape, hurt, fear, honesty, confusion, clarity.  How can the brain have so much going on yet not nail down one thought.  It's as if a movie with a thousand characters is trying to be filmed and no one has a script, just characters running around aimlessly doing nothing but bumping into each other.

OK, let's ask one big question.  When you feel love for something do you actually love what it is or do you just love the concept of it?  How can you love something if you don't truly know it?  Can you love something a little or must it be wholeheartedly?  Same for people.  How can you be in love with someone without even knowing who they really are?  Know what they are made of, what is inside it, how they came to be, what they fear, what they love.  Does none of this matter?

I know that when we love something like a child or family, that is almost unconditional.  Something that we feel because of who they are to us, they are what we know and in many cases have known all our lives or theirs.  Like an extended part of ourselves.  Love just is, like a garden of wild flowers just grow because their seeds landed.  No real tending needed, just continue to grow and flourish in the sunlight and occasional rain.

But what is it about that word, Love?  There are varying degrees of love, of how we feel, of what it means to us when it is said.  When it is said, is it the feeling we love or who is making us feel it?  It seems to be thrown around so much now that it is hard to put into words the depth in which we feel what we are describing.  Why do we insist on rushing in without first looking where we are going?  Do you jump into the pool without testing the water first?  Or do you just trust that it is not too hot or too cold?  Once in, do you jump and run out as quick as possible or do you stay and hope to get used to it? 

After removing the rose colored glasses to see things how they really are, the light shines brightly on the truth, the inevitable truth that things just aren't what they seemed to be in the beginning.  How do you react?  In my situation, I tried to slow things down but it seemed that was not possible.  Guess it is easy to go from 0 to 60 in record speed but to go back down to 25 after hitting 60 apparently causes a shift bigger than one can recover from.

Time to get back on the road again and see where my journey takes me next.