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The thing about letting go
I have always had a knack for planting myself in the middle. One of my girlfriends insists it's a "Leo thing" - and who knows? Maybe she's right. I am of the opinion, though, that perhaps it's not a "Leo thing" but an all-too acute sense of my surroundings; those things which grasp hold of my sensitivity strings much like the chordae tendinae of the heart, and manifests itself in an overly, and overtly sensitive response to things beyond my control. Or maybe, not even beyond my control, but that aren't necessarily in my immediate grasp - but within my reach.
I think it's because of the worst sound I've ever heard.
The worst sound I ever heard was another human being wailing in pain. Not physical pain, but the kind that comes with loss; An aching, a tangible suffering that is never truly relieved. I was never attune to this sound; it was an all too unfamiliar thing, and then one day I heard it; and when I looked around, I realized that it was me making that sound. It is pure anguish for me to hear another human being make that same sound. If I could, I would protect the world from it; each and every person. I never want anyone to feel that kind of wrenching loss.
But loss is, after all, part of our existence. And, sadly, that pain can no more be prevented than any other flawed, human experience. And I'm not using flawed in a negative context, but a factual context. They are there, and they are often glaring, and we're no worse for the wear because of it.
But, back to the middle of things; which, of course, is where I am. And it's not that I'm inextricable. I'd go if I were asked to. But I also suffer from the in-out effect - or, you may recognize it under its more descriptive name - should-I-stay-or-should-I-go syndrome (Thanks, of course, to The Clash). I've got my keys in my hand, and my fingers wrapped half-heartedly around the knob, but we're still talking, and I want to keep talking, and I'm hoping that you do, too; and so the more you talk, the looser my grip on the knob, and the hand connected to the arm holding the keys is no longer bent at the elbow as if I'm about to put them to use, but is now limply at my side. I may jiggle the keys a bit, but it's mainly because I like the sound, and not because I'm impatient. None of this makes too much sense, I know, just bear with me.
I mainly stay because life is too short to not stay. We should speak from our hearts, or so I believe; more importantly, we should act from our hearts. We should, as we were reminded this past weekend, reach down to help someone else up. If we love, we should say we love without hesitation; if we fear, we should not be ashamed. Of course, wearing your heart on your sleeve leads to a whole host of other problems... but I'm determined to stay, for the time being, in the middle, so we won't discuss that here. I guess the last thing I'll say from my place in the middle, is, whether I choose to stay or not, it is the only place my heart wants to be.
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