Divine Timing

The music through my headphones was placed at the perfect volume just low enough to hear the world going on around me as background noise. Both sounds leveled me to a vibration where I was not too focused on either of the noises. I took a seat at what was a miracle of the only empty and available table at the busiest coffee shop right in the heart of town. I looked around and embraced the peacefulness that I was creating within myself and let the cool breeze flutter through my hair as I tried to find some inspiration from the life happening around me. Nothing was screaming any of the answers towards me, so I decided to go down memory lane instead. I pulled out a little black book from my bag and started flipping through the pages. It was an old journal I used throughout the years of my childhood scribbling notes and random nonsense and jotting down periodic bursts of writing ideas that I had hoped to go back and finish but never did. I read all the way up until the very end and that is where I found myself most intrigued by what it read. At first, I thought I was reading an old diary entry but then I realized otherwise. I kept reading and fell into it’s world as it pulled me in and started to read to me this: “I talk about things I can’t really remember, and I think about things that I don’t know how to say, and I feel things all while not understanding where they’re coming from. Everything inside of me just somehow seems so…. Off? There is a million words I can choose from to describe what I am saying in a way that you can comprehend, yet it is something I’ve yet to understand. It is a kind of knowing that you have inside of you, whether it be good or bad. And somehow, you have just accepted it, no questions asked. It is like somehow you started believing in something and the knowing of your thoughts do not scare you anymore. A fullness inside you starts to give you this kind of trust in the universe that somehow feels like it is all in your hands and in your control. You start to feel like your apart of it, like it is you, and you realize that that cannot be taken away from you. You become a true believer in all things you and everything around you starts to become only in favor for you.

You can feel a certain vibe within the air, and it takes you back to familiar thoughts that you’ve lifetimes ago remember having within another time and place. At times, it makes it hard to remember which ones came first and if any of them are true or true within time. Today I saw two birds dancing in the air, twirling around my garden table as they chirped a love song together in cue. Small meaningless sights like these seem to give me the deepest of emotions and thoughts. They tend to make me question my beauty to the earth, as I am subsequently nonessential to nature’s wellbeing. Though, eventually, I tell myself, that all of this, are just my own thoughts making me feel a little crazy. And it is just like that when it all disappears, and once again, my mind is left empty. Maybe not just my mind, but my everything. Everything, like my mind, thoughts, feelings, awareness, and concept; just empty. It makes me empty inside, like I am gone. I am there, but barely, and only…. watching; watching from my own eyes but somehow unable to respond on my own. It is almost like there is a hover or a fog over my emotions and in my mental thoughts and I just do not feel ‘there’. It is as if, I am the fog and everything about me is so dispersed that I cannot really seem to connect them all to one. So, I become none, nothing. I start to feel nothing, and nothing is truly a feeling. Do you believe in the beauty of the universe?

“Well, I’m not sure what you mean. What do you mean when you say, ‘the beauty of the universe’?” asked this person, so called, therapist of mine. “That the universe is within you and within you is the universe, and together, you are one?” I explained and asked her again. She proceeded to instead, ask “That is, a beautiful thought. Is that how you see yourself? Do you see yourself as one with the universe? Or how about one with yourself?” Once more, I had to explain to her, “You and I, are one. You are one with the universe and I am one with the universe, making you and I, of the universe, and of one another. We all are.” She ignored my explanation and instead responded with another question asking me “How do you feel every day? How do you feel today? How do you feel right now?” Again, another question, to which I told her, “I don’t believe that we’ve all felt enough to truly know what it means to feel. Emotions run deep; deep enough to scar a person’s soul.” And all she had to ask was “Do you feel like your soul has been hurt? Did someone or something hurt your, uh, soul?” I knew she didn’t really understand, so in hopes to all least make her wonder, I said to her, “That is though, if we even have souls. How do we know? Were ‘souls’ only brought to belief because of religion or is that something someone has truly felt? Our emotions come from our mind which trigger our dull aches in our chests. SO, really, we do not even truly feel in our hearts, but within our heads. Well, really, our minds. Our minds are the masterminds behind what is truly us, which we cannot seem to figure out, because, for some reason, we are all hiding something from ourselves. Ourselves as an individual person, and ourselves as a collective whole for each other. Have you ever thought to wonder, why is it that our brains are so complex to understand when we already know how to use it? It is just that somehow, we do not know what parts to use. Our brains are using parts that we’re not aware that they’re using, and it’s our minds themselves that are controlling us and not really us in control of them.” All of that rawness for her to senselessly ask “You said, hiding things from ourselves, are you hiding something from yourself? Maybe something you wish you didn’t do or something you don’t like remembering?”.

As I am here waiting to leave, I can hear my mother ask my therapist “So, how did it go this time? Did he remember anything? Did he say anything this time?”. My therapist plainly responded to my mother’s concern with telling her that my thoughts are still far apart, and that I still just ramble off about topics that do not really coincide with each other. She also told my mother that my rants do include myself now and reflections of things I see throughout the day which I thought was odd because I was not ranting. I was merely trying to have a conversation with her to which she was not capable of having with me. “There is some progress happening, so that is looking good. Well, same day and time for next week’s appointment?” I tuned back in to hear my therapist speak. Eagerly and almost annoyed, my mother quickly responded, “After months of random bursts of words and shouts, that’s more than just ‘some’ progress, he’s getting better, isn’t he?”. Unencouragingly, my therapist said, “I don’t want to make any affirmations right away based off of an occasional good session, but today his progress definitely was great”. A little less enthusiastic, my mother asked, “Do you think there may be triggers to his good and back tracking progress? Maybe there’s something we can do to keep making progress.”. Finally, supportive, my therapist put down her clipboard of useless notes about today’s session and responded with “That could be a possibility, or it could just be his mind doing all of the work on its own. You can watch out for any signs and triggers if you think that that may be a possibility. There was also one other thing I wanted to bring up to you before you go.” My mothers face turned to a wrinkle of stress and lost its color while beginning to signal with her eyes that she knew what was about to be said and hoped for just today that it would not be mentioned. “This is actually good news, it’s a huge weight someone has lifted for you. There’s been an anonymous donor that has paid for all of his therapy sessions, even for quite a few more here after as well.” My mother was frozen still, and her eyes were now fountains that I have seen before but this time, they were beautiful fountains. “How… how much?” my mother stuttered. “They donated a balance of twenty thousand dollars. So, you don’t have to worry about therapy payments for quite a bit of time.”

People seem to think that I do not know what is going on around me, as if they are trying to fool me, and I always want to say something, but I cannot. There is always something holding me back and it angers me because I just easily let it go, and I do not bother to really even care anymore. Have you ever really and truly not cared? Anyone could do it if they really wanted, but the hard part is, learning to care again. It’s hard because it’s something you don’t want to do anymore because not caring is paired with no desire. Caring is a hard thing to regain when you have learned how easy it is to stop and so painful to think about ever again. Imagine shutting off everything inside of you and holding in, and hiding away, every emotion you should have felt, to one day, deciding to release it all at once, and to be overflowed by so many things you tried to get away from. You were drowning then, and you will drown again now. I’m drowning right now as I just sit here and listen”. I closed the little black book and set it down. It was deep, almost personal. Well, I mean, it is, because it came from me, to me. But I did not find what I was looking for. I came here to this coffee shop with the intention of creating a masterpiece. Instead, I let myself bask in my own readings and decided to sit here in peacefulness in hopes that by letting my mind wander my surrounding sights, a masterpiece would begin to grow. I decided to sit here and trust in the divine timing.