Life is all about air. Breathing in. Breathing out. In with the much needed oxygen. Out with the toxic carbon dioxide. There’s a reason it feels good to sigh.
Kids love balloons. When they’re filled with air they spend countless hours throwing them. Chasing them. Bouncing them. But eventually they deflate and the fun subsides. There’s a reason taking the air out of something makes it lifeless and boring.
We’re like the balloons. We need air to breathe. To fuel our muscles. To keep us alive. To fill us with energy and life and joy. And right now we are gasping. We’ve got a slow leak we can’t find or repair. And we can’t breath fast enough to offset the loss.
Having watched someone take their very last breath I can assure you it’s not fun to be gasping for air. And unless we fix the leaks, not just patch them, it will be too late. We won’t be able to fill ourselves up again.
This is work we have to do. It’s not a one time thing. It’s the food we eat. The company we keep. The moments we reflect and find the good. It’s the books and the music and the holding hands. But it’s also the asking for help. It feels strange to ask someone to help us breathe. But we must. We can’t always do it on our own.
I’m so out of practice with writing this blog. I feel disorganized and verbose and unclear. But writing fills me up. So even if it’s imperfect it’s still good for me.
Reminds me of the Billy Madison quote when the principal essentially tells Billy he’s a rambling idiot “Mr. Madison, what you’ve just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.”
Hopefully at some point in my incoherent rambling I made some sense.
