The challenge of merely “being” seems to be much more difficult than I anticipated. I wouldn't have even associated the word challenge with it, but it's hard. Even as I write these words, my mind drifts and distracts to all the things I want to do, rather than focusing on this piece of paper, which, at this moment, is allowing me to be who I want to be. In truth, the concept of just “being,” something, my therapist encouraged me to do, isn't something I fully understand yet.
Not fully at least. Oh, but I've gotten glimpses. And those glimpses that now exist in photo and memory alone or, may be the very thing that allow me to embrace this idea fully.
On a Midsummer’s evening, I found myself on the rocky shores of a cobalt lake, very, very deep in the Colorado backcountry. It was quite possibly the most remote I've ever been, far removed from home, and the only familiar territory was the miles that we'd already walked. Out there, distraction is hard to come by. One can sit and observe the landscape, taking in each detail and allowing the mind to relax, without anything grasping for their attention.
Unless there's a bear or something I suppose.
It's utterly still. There’s scarcely a breath of wind. The lake is glass, the air is cool. Clouds drift across the craggy skyline, and the light takes on increasingly deeper shades of blue. Evergreens are silhouetted magnificently against the water, composed as a work of art.
Here, "being" isn't a challenge. It's the default. I can sense, anxiety, melting away, and feel the truest version of myself rising to the surface. The true identity, yet the version of me I still have yet to truly be. Out here, among the trees, the layers of defense I've built up from years of brokenness begin to unravel, and for a moment, I'm a step closer to being who I'm created to be.
And here at the end of this page, I find myself there once again.
