Closely-held Beliefs

What happens when life doesn't work as it should?

What happens when the buildings crash--When the beautiful, amazingly-constructed buildings I have built and lived in crash--What then?

What happens is I have nowhere to stay. I'm a wandering, homeless person, on the move instead of staying inside.

The buildings are my closely-held beliefs, the unshakable ones in which I've lived my life. They are the no-kidding values and truths that tell me how life works.

I thought those would never change, thought I was safe there.

Yet one by one they've toppled, leaving me alone in the open air.

What's true now? How does it all work? What about shelter? What about fierce weather? From where am I going to get my view? If I want to see beauty and greatness, shouldn't I get back to building again? Won't I find that life will have gone by and I won't have anything to show, I won't have anything figured out?

Am I to have nothing but my wits to get me through another day?

I don't know the answers, but I do have my wits, along with my mind, my heart, my gut--along with my small jobs and routines, the day-in and day-out of life. These things are going to get me through the day, the month, the years, and that might just be okay. Holding up those buildings--the maintenance alone--was getting exhausting.

I'm just going to live. I'm going to do the small things, the ins and outs, it's my only option, it's all I can do. I'm going to show up. I'm going to be there. I'm going to be all-the-way there. I'm going to be in the moment. I'm going to look at the view from down here, instead of from skyscrapers. And I'm not going to let all this rubble keep me from moving, trudging if I have to.

And, although it's a little chilly, I find I'm breathing a lot easier out here--my vision just got a little clearer.