I’m in a cynical mood. The kind of mood where I’d probably get into trouble if I said what I actually wanted to say. It’s cloudy and rainy and feels thick. In comparison to many other States, when the weather is like this in sunny Arizona, it tends to bring a sense of excitement. Maybe because it’s something different than the usual bright and sunny day. Something different than the mundane. I guess I can be grateful that my mundane is bright and sunny. Maybe it’s something I read that put me in this mood.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been slacking on going to yoga because my shoulder hurts and well, it’s just that time of the month. It’s probably this kind of thinking that made me “sick” in the first place. Nowadays, I’d say I generally see life through rose-colored, heart- shaped glasses. Where everything is rainbow colors and butterflies and unicorns. But every now and again, I don’t choose to see things in rainbow colors. Sometimes cynicism is easier. Lazier, perhaps. Honestly, maybe it’s so I can connect to people who don’t also see the rainbows. It’s sad that it’s almost hard for me to find people who I feel are truly happy at their core. Where cynicism is an easier characteristic to relate to people with. Like I know they’re lying to me when at a party, they say that they’re actually in love with life. Like they’re lying to themselves.
Maybe it’s easier to not feel like you’re lifting people up all the time. Easier not to forage your own path. Follow a path that is already in place for you. One that’s been proven to work. Where success (financial) is a guarantee. Like, “Fuck it! I give up!” Following your dreams is like embarrassing these days anyways, right? It’s too vulnerable to tell people you actually believe you can be something more.
But I know that’s not true. Even as I’m writing this, I know that’s not me. I am a dreamer. And if it didn’t scare the living shit out of, I probably wouldn’t be interested anyways. Does that make me crazy? Or does that make me sane for actually trying? I don’t think I care. And suddenly, I’m not feeling so cynical anymore:) Writing it out just makes me aware of my own self trying to BS myself into being cynical. I couldn’t possibly “give up.” Ahhhh, much better. More true to my soul.
I didn’t really know what this blog post was going to be about, but I think I just figured it out. This is why I write. Just like yoga, it’s my medicine. It’s what keeps me honest with myself. It’s what makes me see and understand my own thoughts. If they’re ever jumbled around in my head, and I’m not sure what I want: WRITE… and I’ll figure it out. It’s like I need to be doing it.
I know I don’t necessarily need to publish everything I write, but sometimes I think vulnerability is strength. Actually that’s almost always true. It’s almost like a test for myself – to see how much I actually care about what others think. Not that I actually think many people are reading this. Haha. But trust me, there’s plenty stuff I write that I never put in a blog or a book or an Instagram post.
So just like that: my cynical mood has been transformed back into my resilient self 🙂 Where I know at my core that I’m on the right track. The self that knows there’s at least some things I’m doing right in this life. The self that is always trying to be the best version of itself. Searching for nothing other than my highest self.