In my last post on The Pastry Box, I wanted to say something significant, and meaningful, and noteworthy. I'm afraid I will fall short.
I'm not certain about many things. As I've grown older, I've become less certain of almost everything. I guess the longer you're around, you see that your assumptions are often (usually) wrong.
What I value has changed quite a bit, as I've lived with this brain of mine year after year. It soars, and it rages, and it plummets. It processes input at blazing speed, and it retreats into itself like a turtle. It loves and it hates with equal ferocity. It loves to be praised and it only remembers criticism. It ignores what it knows to be true and it believes the worst to be inevitable.
On good days it's quiet and confident and at peace.
On bad days it screams with a dozen voices inside my head. They all tell me to be afraid.
Good days and bad days trade places in an instant. I've never bothered to try to track the roller coaster, but I expect it would be a very volatile graph.
I'm good at a lot of things because I'm this way. I hate myself a lot of days because I'm this way.
What I value more and more is peace. Tranquility. Freedom from fear. Because fear is so often with me. It bleeds into all of my experiences. I wrestle with it every day.
I am at peace when I am free of fear. I am free of fear when I believe I will be okay. So every day, I am trying to train myself to believe I will be okay, despite what this brain of mine tells me.
There are many foolish things I find myself concerned with. This is all distraction. Pleasant sometimes, unpleasant others. In the end, they don't matter.
In the end – at the end – finding that peace is what matters.