The Sun and the Moon

Sometimes I wonder if the sun ever misses the moon. In the rare moments where they meet or glance at one another from across the world, do they know how much time will pass before they meet again? Do they care? Or do they celebrate both their meeting and their divide without feeling sorrow in the time and space between them? I hope they do, and I hope I learn something from them.

Because my first thought in a moment that I recognize as fleetings is never celebration – it’s immediate longing. And as time passes and I come closer to the end of the season I’ve been living in for so long, I’m filled with an insurmountable longing that I can’t seem to shake, even though I know it’s a longing for things that haven’t happened yet. I feel myself missing moments and people and experiences despite the fact that they’re not gone. But the idea that someday they will be is too much for me to simply push to the side. And I know nobody wants to talk about it. But the incessant denial is only putting this feeling at a higher regard. It’s giving it the power it needs to grow rather than the care it needs to heal. It’s like ignoring weeds in a garden and expecting them to go away instead of sitting in the uncomfortable heat for long enough to just dig the damn weeds out.

And the truth is, I am both saddened and terrified at the thought of change. But when I think about the sun and the moon and the rhythm of the earth, I am comforted in knowing that nothing is meant to stay sedentary for too long and change always leads to a beautiful and natural evolution. I don’t think the sun ever misses the moon because it knows that in due time they will meet again. This is a lesson the earth teaches us time and time again and I am doing my best to learn it: that no matter the discomfort from growth and change, everything will work itself out in due time and just like the wonder that comes from the stars at night and the beauty that is revealed in the light of day, it doesn’t matter what you’re missing because something great is being experienced it its place.

Light

Around ten o’clock every morning the sun shines through my room perfectly, allowing it’s warmth to soak my skin despite the freezing cold just beyond the walls. If I don’t have class or work or any other responsibilities, I’ll lay in bed and allow the warmth to fill me up. And, just like plants in the same way sun gives them life, I feel life flowing into me as well. I’ve learned this year about the importance of soaking up life. About letting light in every form it may come, be it the company of a friend or serenity of solitude, pour into you and fill the parts of you that so desperately needed it. Because sometimes you don’t know. You don’t know that that impromptu conversation with a stranger is going to turn into a sharing of stories that will leave you feeling giddy and nostalgic. You don’t know how that random drive will lead you to a beautiful place, filling you with a serendipitous memory you can call your own. You don’t know about the things that seem like a burden at the time, either. You don’t know how that person leaving your life was really making room for someone better, even if it was just yourself. You don’t know how that horrible moment was paving the way for a beautiful mind.

But even among all this unknowing, it’s hard to deny that life isn’t always working for you. We’re always going to outgrow a part of ourselves. And if you remember being younger and struggling to sleep as your legs kicked back and forth along the bed and the growing pains kept you up then you know that growth is not comfortable. In the same way that your body changed so will your life as a whole. You’re going to outgrow the person that you were; you’re going to outgrow the person that you are. In the midst of all that, you’re going to outgrow other things too: dreams, people, circumstances. The only reason it’s uncomfortable – the only reason it hurts – is because you don’t know what’s next. But if you can trust your body to grow into exactly who it’s meant to be, you can trust life to allow you to grow into who you’re meant to be.

You don’t have to know what’s going to happen to know it’ll be okay. Life is always working for you, not against you. It’s just a matter of sitting in the sun every chance you can get even if you know there’s nothing but cold around you.

Bloom

Winter beat me down. Freezing the soil that was supposed to help me grow and leaving my soul covered in ice and ready to shatter at any given moment. The constant battle between feeling the warmth of the sun and hiding in the shadows became exhausting and left me tired. Tired of the pain that comes with clawing my way through the frozen dirt. Tired of the ache that is felt when my mind wanders to a place it shouldn’t. Tired of fighting for people who didn’t fight back, leaving me covered in bruises while they were left standing tall. I had been pushed away, people not realizing that what really happened was I had been pushed down as they walked away. There had to be more to life than this. Flowers don’t bloom in frozen soil and you can’t move forward when you’re lying on your back.

But I know that winter is both an end and a beginning, and I will honor every ending. Even if the ending is a broken heart. A broken soul. A broken smile. The sun continues to shine every day and whether I’m hiding in the shadows or not, the ice around me will still melt. And while the sun shines around me, I know that there is a light within me that shines as well. It may be hidden behind the cold and darkness right now, but it is trying to break through and eventually it will thaw out the frozen heart that aches within my chest. The light is beautiful, and so am I. When it gets its chance to shine through it will flicker and fade like everything else, but it will shine with an urgency that lets the world know that I am not done. I have not been defeated.

Soil cannot be used until it has been beaten and rained on. I am confident that while I have been put through the wringer time and time again, I am being prepared for something great. For someone great. Someday I will know how the stories that have been building up inside me were being archived to tell to the right person. To someone who wants nothing more than to hear about the mess within my mind and smile when I tell them about all my little victories. About how sometimes simply getting out of bed made me proud. About how the mud that once covered me flaked off my skin to reveal a softness I never knew I had. A softness that was preparing my heart to love in a way it never knew it could. They will see the unsteady light within me and know that it, too, is something worth fighting for.

Though winter beat me down, spring brings a new sun. A new peace. I still have to fight my way through the cold and rely on my own uneasy breath to warm up the layers of ice that have been collecting over my spirit, but I will keep breathing, even if my lungs begin to ache. The soil that has been stomped on, trampled over, frozen and soaked is only being prepared so a garden of the most beautiful flowers can begin to bloom in the new sun. There will be daisies and sunflowers. Things that remind me of light and beauty. Things I always have but cannot always see. While I have been left hurt and uneasy, I am grateful that I was pushed down and beaten by others because it has ripened my soul. I am not always the best and I am not always right, but I do my best to do what is right. A new season is coming and by the grace of God, I will bloom in every way I know how.