tsvetoslav shalev

What are you, really? he wondered. He explored love with curiosity, the way he would have looked at it when he was a tiny boy, before his heart first broke. He began to feel release.

Maybe it is okay that I loved her, he thought. Maybe it is okay that I still love her.

– Matthew Maxwell, How To Hold A Cockroach: A book for those who are free but don’t know it

I know that on occasion I can come across as a grumpy Buzz Killington. Life just gets to us. You know this, I know this. And I want to say it’s not me, but I struggle to accept my own complicated reasoning at times. As of recently, however, my attitude towards life’s challenges has changed for the better. Yes, despite the absence of human companionship or intimacy, the curtain of darkness obscuring the sky over Leigh, Wigan for weeks on end, the myriad of trite technicalities of trying to embody a vision of a responsible adult, the complete absence of inspiration or drive.. And yet, I think I am weathering the sh*tstorm rather well. Not because I’ve hardened, no. It’s more like, the eye of said storm is right above me at this moment in my life and I’m finally able to breathe a sigh of relief, if only for a little while.

For you see, how we fail matters. And not just because the “biglier” our failure(s) the worse they smart (another S word hardly ever used); no, it’s because if we’ve paid any attention during the entire process, there ought to be some valuable lessons to be gleaned. On some days we forget to remember, having lived decades. Repeat some of our mistakes we inadvertently will. Provided we are aware of the repetition and it’s pattern, we can accept our role and take responsibility. Acceptance follows suit, shortly thereafter, and with it – a wave of calm. I know this is old news, but it feels so damn good when the wisdom of old finally clicks. Mind you, waiting for understanding to take place is like fishing in the proverbial bathtub. There are no guarantees that our efforts will be noticed, let alone pay off. Unfortunately, without any kind of action on our part, reality can only provide for so much. Inaction, born out of dissatisfaction with the hands Fates have dealt me, was a singular companion throughout my 20s. In my late 30s, it no longer makes sense to deprive myself of all the beauty that’s available to us. I say us, for if you have the means to read or hear my words, then you also have access to staggering amounts of other wonderful and interesting curios, be they man-made, or as bi-products of the Universe we co-inhabit.

Yes, my current mood is one of gratitude. A combination of acute mental and physical pain, hard work, and preplanned exercise, adequate rest, and a renewed appetite for all the goodness life has to offer; all of them and more have contributed to this latest state of inner peace. Fragile though it may be, at least the merciless mind-chatter has died down and taking long walks doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it used to. That is good, believe me. I am not entirely sure if I can completely shake off the feelings of want or stop myself from glancing at any gadget that can tell the current time even when I am having fun, but should new neural pathways of understanding form in this skull of mine, you’ll be among the first to know. And remember – there is a very good reason why things feel the way they do. Best keep your mind receptive, even when it hurts. Yes, sometimes, more than just a little.