There are moments when you are faced by the dismal situation of your dreams being held hostage by the complex and disheartening realities of your life. A question is placed before you of whether to sacrifice passion on the altar of survival, or not. In these moments your very make-up is changing, stretching and shrinking, bending to fit your own will.
Your very soul whispers,
And give up The Wonder?
There is something primal the fights for and against this. Fight or flight? Fear or freedom? The word responsibility is thrown around, perhaps obligation makes an appearance. This is a battle not won in the mind. A question not answered with logic. It must be felt. And there is no right or wrong, which makes it all the more difficult.
There will be seasons where The Wonder must be placed up high, invisible for a time when it is too painful to look at. It will remain out of sight, but never truly out of mind. Perhaps pressed out by overwhelming feelings of self doubt, pain, fear - but never really forgotten.
There will be eras dedicated to the pursuit of it. The Wonder occupying every moment, allowing all else to fall away as the symphony of creativity swells. It will rise and rise, with nothing to detract from its magic and light. All else fading away.
Times of change, to consider the question again and again, will occur more often than not, and your shape will be ever changing. Eternally struggling against the oppressive need to choose at all. Your body will reject what your mind deems necessary and your soul will be too far to hear from either.
I have been lost in a season without and now I am reveling in a time where every part of me aches for it. I can't focus but for my inspiration, the beat of my own true self alive again, surrounded by nothing but The Wonder. It is a deep blessing and hard place in the midst of such an phenomenally difficult time of life. I am grateful, yet there seems to be such little change in the day-to-day. I don't feel particularly happy or as if life is easier. If anything, it has become more impossible to keep up. The Wonder enveloping every piece of the mundane, tears flowing more freely at the same time as inappropriate laughter rising up in me. A confusing and terrible joy.
And who knows when the question will ask itself again?