It’s been nothing but dreary since I’ve been back on this fish shaped location that they call Long Island. Some days has it’s highs and smiles of appreciation but as I stepped out into the faded weather today, it’s cold touch pinching my skin, and the eerie solitude and quietness of barren streets and rustling leaves, I couldn’t helpbut feel somewhat alone. Everyday the tears of the sky peep out of the clouds to hit down and end its course on the resistant pavement. Since I’ve been home things have not been a blissful euphoria. Upon the excitement of graduation, I did not expect a severing of time in my life where all things would drastically change from here on out and I would be a rejuvenated human being but I didn’t expect my prospects to appear like this. I had a blurred hope that life would unravel in an sanguine process. A state of straddling a line of knowing and and having faith in unknowing. Out of focus but excited knowing that the clarity was coming. Kind of like observing a picture that you have yet to completely decipher but you know in your soul that it’s good and a masterpiece and you trust the artist in his genius and flair.
I’ve always been the optimist, finding joy in minuscule details, giving people the benefit of the doubt, finding one good characteristic in everyone. You know, laughing-when-the-car-runs-out-of-gas-and-everyone-else-freaks-out kind of person. Although this is true I feel that the optimism that has conquered my life is now in a battle with the pessimistic atmosphere I am besieged in. I’m not talking about practicality or the obvious against the backdrop of naivety but a warring against a lack of confidence and hope, especially pertaining to the future.
When did I let this creep in? Why have I allowed this blackness to peer into my soul and take advantage of and manipulate my most vulnerable fragments, my desired dreams?
I’ve been struggling with this for some while now. Gaining new insights, encountering these new feelings, finding ways to not run from it but to pry my way through it. One by one, day by day but it is something that I refuse to have envelope me into a life of melancholy. I’ve been speaking of new beginnings and such. By a new beginning sometimes we automatically think moving on, better stuff, clean slates and this is true but we hardly see it holding hands with hardship. Sometimes a new beginning needs a bit of sweat and tears. It calls for it.
Proverbs 13:12 “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.” I must remember that there is a tree of life at the end of every hope that is in pending. It is now that I need it most. So, if there is anything I can take from this it is to make a intentional decision every day to put my hope in the best. The best perspective, the best attitude, the best actions- hope in God. From there is a beautiful masterwork, a great work that is being melded through. So next time I step out into Long Island’s damp dusk, letting the cold pinch me, I’ll take a deep breath of hope knowing that things won’t be like this forever. Because hope does exist. I have hope.
magnum opus: from the Latin meaning “great work.” Refers to the largest, and perhaps the best, greatest, most popular, or most renowned achievement of a writer, artist, or composer.