Happy Enough
Ξ September 2nd, 2008 | → | ∇ General |
I’ve been taking a lot of time for myself lately. It’s been good. I’ve needed it.
Summer is over, almost officially. The loyola kids are back on campus, as are the Depaul and Columbia students. They’re buzzing all over the north side and the loop respectively. The dark moon was a few days ago, and I feel as though I’m waking up from a rather prolonged depression. It hasn’t actually been that long, a few weeks perhaps.
I’m not leaving this depression in a flush of false epiphany, or a joyous trumpet of celebration, or even a vigorous push into action. I’m not escaping despair tonight. I suppose, in a way, I’m embracing it. I realize that my life is not perfect. I accept that I have love in my life, that I have community, family, friends, and meaning. But these things do not ultimately make me happy. Not in themselves.
I am happy for fleeting moments. Periods of connection and meaning that shine through from time to time. And there are periods of despair, of great aching lonliness that remind me of high school. There is a sober acceptance in me tonight. A slightly sad stillness that acknowledges the good and the bad without judgment. The cook and manager in Waitress, Cal, is asked by Keri Russell if he’s happy. His ultimate response is “Happy Enough.”
When it comes down to it, I’m happy enough. There are plenty of moments when I’m depressed and angry. Plenty of times when I feel that my dreams will never be more than dreams. Plenty of moments when I fear that I’m too weak, or too scared, or too jealous, or too self-involved to live up to my self-expectations. But there are also plenty of times when I’m confident. Plenty of times when I reach out and touch someone, and see that I’ve helped them. Plenty of times I’ve overcome my fears. Plenty of times my own pain has helped me heal others, when my own struggles have helped me teach.
I’ve always disliked the concept of contentment. It speaks of stagnation. Of a place where you get and you stop moving forward. For months now I’ve been contented, and I’ve hated myself for it. People around me, teachers and friends and guides, have reinforced my feelings that contentment is just a word for stagnation. I’ve listened too much to that, in my own head and around me. I am content with my speed. Content with the meandering, wandering, course that the red thread takes under my feet.
I’m content with the slow maturation of my mind and spirit, content with the love and understanding that continues to blossom. And I am angry that I let myself fear that contentment. I am angry that I was struggling with an enemy that did not need to be fought.
The Gods know that I don’t always agree with him, but I am finding that in some ways I am very much like Daniel. I see in him a deep and silent rage when people pressure him to move faster than he feels he should, to embrace a course that he has not yet determined is the right one. I feel echoes of that in myself now. Perhaps hotter, more immediate than his, but more superficial as well.
Lughnasadh is gone. The first harvest well and done. Mabon approaches, and with it the promise of autumn. I’m leaving the summer behind, along with the dark moon of the past weekend. It’s bittersweet, realizing that my harvest of this year looks nothing like what I would have anticipated 9 months ago. But it is not a small harvest, nor one that will stead me poorly through the winter. Just not the harvest that was originally predicted.
