A Saran-wrapped Theory

Sometimes, a light is just a light. An idea is just an idea. A dream is just a dream.

I have known things at one time, to find them untrue later on.

Sticking my toe in a drain will not suck me into the sewer. That shadow tapping on my window isn't a rapist, it's a tree. Once, I scared myself silly by walking into the bathroom in the dark. Coming face to face with a stranger bent on killing me. A blood-curdling scream erupted from me at almost the same time I realized it was my reflection. Still, the pounding rush of blood in my ears muffled the sound of my nervous giggle, and I hit the lights to confirm my suspicions. For a second, I KNEW I was going to be killed by a bathroom-stranger.

I would like to say age has brought me wisdom. Silly fears and knee-jerk knowledge is a thing for campfire stories and inside jokes. But I'm pretty sure I would be lying.

Most often, I am caught off guard by the depth of my wrongness. The only thing age has brought, is the grace with which I accept it. I no longer try to avoid responsibility or explain away my err. I approach it with a wink-wink-nudge-nudge. 'Dja see that one? Got me good, it did' tee hee, once the sting has worn off that is.

I have a couple "ideas". Firstly, that "being in love" is like Saran Wrap. You stretch it out over the leftovers. It stays there, at the back of the fridge. The food goes mouldy, but you won't smell the stench until you pull it out and peel back that Saran Wrap. As long as it stays there, firmly over the food...you can stay in love. You don't have to know how much it stinks. 

Not that I think LOVE is like that, nope, but the term "but I love ..(whoever)..." 

Is the Saran Wrap, covering the stank. 

Which brings me to my second idea.

What if true balance accepts both love and fear. That all of the struggle with ego, lessons, teaching, learning, growth, and so on; are the train driving you to the tracks' pinnacle. That once you have arrived, you will realize it was all just part of the journey. The point was to travel, not reaching any purpose at all. 

Rejecting one for the other would be like stretching an elastic band until it snapped, and wondering why it wouldn't stretch any further. Reaching and climbing, ever higher. Finding that the top

was the bottom and you came full circle. 

Both ideas are the same. This toil to find a place to belong, being the place we created and accept. That we can never know what we don't know, but know enough to know what we do. Maybe reaching to the back of the fridge and peeling back that Saran sealed dish isn't the best plan if you can't deal with what's under it. To know that "pride cometh before the fall", and let the falling happen any way. 

However, sometimes a light is just a light. An idea is just an idea. A dream is just a dream.