How ungrateful are we that we ask for more time?
Was the time we were given not enough?
Complaining about a gift is generally frowned upon.
I've been in a weird funk lately. Not lost, not "finding myself", not unfulfilled; I have climbed these mountains before and I have planted my flag deep in the soil.
I went on a film scavenger hunt today to Twin Peaks, looking for pieces of life to capture and keep for myself. And hopefully understand what questions I'm not asking and what answers I haven't found yet.
And naturally I found streets I became lost in, with no direction. I found stairs. And stairs. And a tattered welcome mat to more stairs. And I found a mountain to climb - albeit small compared to most mountains. And at the top of the mountain fierce winds, barely letting you stand; visitors shouting and laughing as they almost topple over. And I found a bird.
The bird flew still amidst the winds; no goal, no chase. It was riding the waves in the sky, so gracefully as if it truly enjoyed this. It had found its peace within the undying winds.
The bird was what I was looking for. I needed to know that we climb mountains for better views. That stairs were made by others to push us along. That we don't always know what's around the corner, but we must certainly find out - even if it ends up less than what we'd hoped for. That even without a map, we can still find our way somehow if we trust ourselves. And that in the fiercest winds, use what you were born with to ride those waves as they come, and find your peace.
So ride those waves, boy. Find your peace in the storm.