Surrender to Good and Bad Forces

Dearest Mother,

It’s getting harder. I feel so stupid writing this. What’s the point? I ‘m stuck between four walls. If I scream at the top of my lungs my voice will bounce back and I like it because this way I can hear my thoughts and tidy them up according to genre. Kinda like how you would organize books on a bookshelf. Group sadness with grief and longing with love. But why is it that some days are better than others? Ask a stupid question get a stupid answer. Asking why doesn’t solve the problem and if you’ve been following my previous chapters, I am (or want to be) a problem solver. Why didn’t I go into engineering or become a doctor? That’s a question I ask myself every day. No. That’s slightly exaggerated. But frequent enough.

I always want to be something, do something, produce or create something. Never satisfied with just being. Breathing. Walking. Watching. Coming home from work is a dreaded task if I haven’t pre-planned the rest of the day.  Without a to-do list, I float around on the ground while Mother floats in the air. Busyness drifts us further and further away from each other. As I cling on to earthly objects like people, tv, food, music her soul moves further away from me as she embraces virtues of acceptance, harmony, love, compassion, contentment and patience. What about movement? Is that an earthly or heavenly thing? I find myself on the go, go go. From yoga, to gym, to Pilates to swimming. I am acive and like it this way. This is how my mother was. But is it healthy? Will it bring Mother and I closer? I don’t think so.

Dearest Mother, can you pack my lunch box with sandwich virtues please? I promise I wont give any away like I used to when I was in school. I never liked those sandwiches, but I understand the true mental health benefits behind virtues.  

Isn’t it funny how on good days the world just seems bright, flourishing and almost perfect? We feel like we’re thriving and passing with flying colours in a journey to the moon and back. Creative. Innovative. Peaceful. Excited. These are all the adjectives I feel on a good day. But on bad days, oh boy does life get dark. Suddenly, all my personal flaws come to mind. I begin linking the sad moments I feel right now, such as being alone at home, with those that Mother must have experience when she was isolated in this big awful house.

What’s the moral of the story? It’s all in you’re head! We create life. We shape it. We choose the adjectives to describe. We represent the emotions we want to feel.

Surrender. Bow down to the forces. And Mother’s force will come closer and closer.