Solitude

1. A Walk in Nature

A trail that crossed a creek and ran past cattle and on through next to a rock outcropping.

It was all Texas blue sky, where it almost hurts to just stare up and up at that brilliant, cloudless blue.

It was the tiny green buds on winter-brittle branches, the small grey birds perched on the treetops like ornaments.

It was the bubbling of the water, the burbling sounds of the creek, and the gentle ripples that were cool on my fingertips.

It was the make-shift wooden planks as a bridge, the water rushing over my shoes as I leave wet footprints.

It was the sun pouring gold over the world and reflecting off of the water, the sun beating on my skin and warming my skin, the breeze tickling my hair.

It was watching lines and lines of leaf cutters ants marching back and forth, carrying their enormous burden of leaves.

And the stillness of my soul in all of this, despite the sound of rippling water, the taste of hill country breeze crispness, the warmth of light and rays, the sight of my shadow falling onto the rocks from the four o'clock sun, and the beautiful beautiful sight of nature all around me. And it all makes me wonder is this beauty in solitude or just loneliness.

But sometimes, the world is still. And I am still.
And I
am.

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2. On Longing and Status Quo

Does everyone have a sort of longing in their hearts? Is anyone truly, fully fulfilled?

I find myself, sometimes, so envious of other people even though I know I have so much and that they also have difficulties and blah blah blah and that comparison is the thief of joy and yeah I know all of that. But I want.

Isn't the answer to that: go out and do what I want. Find it. Go after it. Don't just let myself waste away in the status quo. Don't settle. Don't settle. Don't listlessly just pause your life. GO.

I find myself so jaded these days.

This is a truth these days: I have an unsatisfied heart.

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3. Joy
Count it all joy, he says.

Is happiness something that I must claw out from the mundanes of life myself? That I must search desperately for the objective beauty in the world? That I must remind myself daily of the lovely things that make me smile? Because if I do not, then it is just empty satisfaction and a weary soul.
I have never thought I wanted rose-colored lenses - but sometimes I wish that I had a disposition more suited for happiness. Is there such a thing?

Maybe I just write this in a time or moment where I feel too much. Perhaps I must give myself another few hours and let this pass.

But, my dear friend would probably tell me, happiness is not joy, is it.
If then
let me find a way to fill my cup.
That I might fill my soul until it brims and then overflows
that I might pour into others.

Count it all joy.
Count it all joy.