(image from Pixabay)
(I wrote this the other night... but I still think that it is relevant and important to post here. Because life isn't always sunshine and rainbows and unicorns. In fact, without the moments of existential doubt - as I infer below - we cannot appreciate the lighter, happier, content moments of life. So on reflection, a few days after writing below, I say this to you, really feel the wide variety of emotions that you feel, remembering always that change is inevitable and that as the sun rises and sets, so sadness, anger, fear, happiness, joy, and ecstasy will come and go).
I suspect I am having an existential crisis.... again.
I don't mean to make an existential crisis sound flippant or deluded or sublime. But it's there and it is something that I trip into regularly, especially since my Mum died. This is going to be a deeply personal blog post, be warned.
As a renowned optimist I do generally see the good, great, and grand view of life, the lighter side, the side where laughter is contagious, the ridiculous can send me into fits of laughter that draw tears from my eyes like the turning of a tap, the marvel at nature that surrounds me, the love expressed through the deepening of relationships with those that love me (and whom I love dearly).
But there is the whirling chaos of despair that sits ever present in a very particular area of my brain and heart. Albert Camus wrote "There is no love of life without despair of life," and the way I see life resonate with this is astonishing. I see friends affected by grief (in the many varied ways that grief expresses itself and the many varied ways that grief comes about), and I recognise that that whirling chaos of despair is a condition of the human experience. To feel grief (for me the grief of losing a parent) is to feel love and a love of life in all its glory. There is hope in even the darkest times and that hope is love. Love is never lost, but it is enduring, most especially during loss, whatever that loss looks like. Despair, I think, almost guides love, guides it to where it needs to go, where it needs to wrap its tendrils tightly, binding; safety.
The colours of life enthral me, including the feeling of despair when I trip inelegantly into it, because, to fully be human, to fully understand the human experience, we have to trip into the dark, if only so we can excitedly skip back into the light.