I sit by the water — light dances across the crystal blue surface.
I can “see” the sun — the heat “touches” my skin, but I am shrouded in fog.
A dingy gray shield— stalwart — negotiates a co-existence with the visceral experience of the actual world’s warmth.
My life bears this tension — the push and pull of what is versus what I experience.
Like a child at the center of a bitter custody battle, I find myself suspended between objective reality and the version of the world my anxiety and depression want me to see.
Somewhere between sunlight and fog — good enough and needing more — surrender and craving — peace and pain — there I am, touching both worlds.
If I let go of one world, the other swallows me up.
Stepping into the sunlight, I bask in its glow until I notice the fog swirling at my feet, intermixing with the sunlit streams.
Descending, the fog lulls me to sleep. Only a resilient beam, crashing through the hazy blanket, awakens me.
I’ve tried to escape them both: rejection, denial, and ill-attempts to hide.
In time — with acceptance, I recognize I am “their” descendent — the daughter of sun and fog.
An unlikely chemistry of contradictory substances reveals my essence — an equation of truth.
I can reject neither — for they are my source. I belong to both, and they to me — an inheritance of contrast.
And so life unfolds in the between — creation occurs in the dance of opposites.
Creatives — children of them all.
Image Credit: Karen Zhao on Unsplash
I originally published this piece on Medium.
©Heather Martin, 2022Recommended3 Simily SnapsPublished in