Going back there was like travelling back in time to a dream. Or a distant memory. It didn't quite take on the restorative nature that it used to. It didn't swallow me up and let me simmer in it's healing properties of nature and ease and simplicity, only to release me as a rejuvenated version of myself.
Instead, it reminded me, ever so clearly, that I have changed. I am a little older. I have a great job, a great family, great friends, a house that I gladly keep. Somehow, the old worries that I used to release so readily by spending some time at the lakehouse are no longer with me. And the worries I do have, I just don't really want to release them. I want peace, don't get me wrong. I want to feel at ease inside my own life. But I just don't feel the need to let some of these things go anymore to feel restored.
The house is getting older and the wood is cracking around the edges, giving under the weight of our bodies and creaking at our lightly placed steps. It cocooned me and took me back in time. I felt like I was tearing at the edges of the pages of my memory, easing the pages back just so slightly, peering at the life I used to call my own. The freedom of the 19 year old. It's a place I will always hold in my heart. It's that deep place of clarity of who you truly want to become, without any real knowledge of how you will get there. It is the constant conflict in self, in nature, in truth. You are and you are not. At 19, you can be anything you want and the world is opening itself to you. But at 19, you are still nothing of the self you will become.
Savoring that freedom... I do. I do long for that carefree quality of life. But when I look at all the amazing things I care about now, I would never wish to be free of them.
There was a pain in the house. It whispered it's wish for repairs, for some grooming, for some much needed tender loving care. But that house holds onto its cares, as well. And sometimes, keeping your cares doesn't mean feeling full of vitality. You are also keeping your fears. Your pain. Your scars. But it's worth it.
Perhaps this old lakehouse and I are not so different after all. Haven't moved so very far apart, as it appeared. We are holding onto our cares. And somehow that is so much more freeing than caring not at all.
“People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that's bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they're afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they're wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It's all in how you carry it. That's what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you're letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.”
-Jim Morrison
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