I sometimes imagine the experience of living as geographical terrain; changing emotions are mountains and canyons. Some days, the dreary ones, it feels like some invisible ceiling is creeping down, leveling all the peaks and valleys into one pancake-like existence. The thought of this flattening scares me shitless and rattles my insides...
because as exhausting as it is to climb those mountains and sink into those canyons, without them, life would just be a lonely trudge through a dull open plain.
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Reference points.
An arrid, desolate lifescape seems directionless and devoid of adventure. And while the mountains and canyons can feel endless or unreachable at times, they serve as reference points for where we've been and where we're going. From them, we can look back at the many experiences, good and bad, that have changed us and brought us to where we walk now, gaining new perspective on what we once thought was all there is. The most exciting thing is to see those forms in the distance that beckon us to come and live through them. There are those that have signs posted on them, showing us that we are not alone, and that others have traversed the land before us. And then there are those that have been undiscovered, prompting us to explore further, to expand the human consciousness.
I don't know if there's a point to all this, but what do we do when we find ourselves surrounded by desert, with no peaks or valleys on the horizon? I often feel like rest is in order, for when I awake, new paths may somehow appear. Or is that just giving up, succumbing to the heat?
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