what does it mean to cope?

what does it mean to cope?

what does it mean to progress? we measure progress by successes. by attaining a triumph, or two. by defeating an enemy, by sustaining a winning streak. by curbing the urge to give in to temptation, to maintain a sickness a depression by continuing non-productive means of coping.

what does it mean to cope? coping implies a hidden pain. a life free of burden requires nothing but openness. only when you’ve had a few doors wrongly thrown against your face do you strive to shield yourself from the impending and certain onslaught. my arms are braced for impact, my heart races at the thought of what it to come. i have been thrown into the world of harsh reality, and sometimes its just too painful to bear. sometimes the places of pain and darkness become life’s only comfort, life’s only familiar place, the heart’s only familiar feeling.

if i was born in a cave of darkness, the light and color of the world would seem foreign, frightening. if i were born in a land of milk and honey, the damp, crepuscular world beneath the earth would stifle and suffocate me. but our reality can change. we are adaptable. like the iris of the eye, our minds can shrink and expand to buck the inherent dynamism of life.

what does it mean to cope? it means an aversion to change. we are not made of water. we are not made of earth. we are not made of air, or fire. we are all; immutable. we can flow through life like a brook, a stream, rage through existence with the voracity of wildfire, we can float above affliction and peer down upon ourselves like eagles over a lake rippled with big fish. we must protect ourselves. like the lake fish, we keep our eyes to the sky, our eyes to the lakebed. we search for threats, we search for that which nourishes us.

i am a deer. i am a deer in a deep, dark forest. i am alone. i am comforted. i watch the other deer, frolicking about in the open meadow. i watch them kick their hind legs, bow their heads, twist and whirl in a blissful existence of naivetivity. i once played in the same field. i ate the lush grass, enjoyed the sunshine on my face. do i dare enjoy this place? i shall don my horns of wisdom and walk upon this space. i have heard the nightingales singing, each to each.

i do not think that they will sing to me.

i love lists: your greatest comforts

i love lists: your greatest comforts

i love lists. YOU love lists. now featuring a list, yep, of my greatest comforts. what are yours?

1. kissing my little pooch, smack dab on his puppy nose.
2. hugging my father.
3. fragrant, smoky gusts of the first winds of fall.
4. oatmeal.
5. sitting by a campfire, drinking whiskey and singing songs.
6. dancing with reckless abandon atop Mulberry Mountain during Wakarusa.
7. being the only unruly white girl in a sea of Thai people in the middle of Bangkok rush hour.
8. the first drag of a cigarette with my first sip of coffee.
9. my bed, and all of its perfectly plump pillows.
10. memories of high school.
11. hoodies. gloves. baggy sweaters. warm boots.
12. reading a book on a sheepskin next to the fire in the grand room of my parents house.
13. pizza after a long day of shredding the gnar.
14. sinking new tracks in freshly fallen snow in the middle of a flitting pine forest.
15. summer nights.
16. standing on the top of very, very tall mountains.
17. blue-eyed, tattooed, pierced, sarcastic men.
18. running.
19. gazing out onto stretches of vast prairie, in the west, wyoming, colorado, the big sky and rolling clouds.
20. horses. everything about horses.
21. the smell of a barn, the smell of a tack room.
22. sleeping on the chest of the man i love, hearing his heart, rising and falling with his breath.
23. the smell of rosemary, the smell of prairie sage.
24. washing my face at night, brushing my teeth.
25. family.