The good things are still there.
Your subconscious remembers everything. It’s your conscious self that chooses what you get to see. What it’s going to shine the spotlight on today.
Sometimes the spotlight gets rusty, stuck, focused on all of the terror of life.
Meaning disappears: “If all there is is pain, what is the point?”
Sometimes you can get stuck for years. You can’t quite reach the spot that needs some WD40. And you forget there ever was anything else to look at in the first place.
But someday you’ll be walking along a country path, thinking about nothing, and catch a scent that reminds you of making Easter bonnets from pieces of nature with your Grandmother on a warm day. And you’ll remember her house, and how you used to read books under the old oak tree and watch the tree swing sway in the wind. How the smell of freshly baked bread travelled through the walls to greet you at first light.
The spotlight moved.
All those memories exist. Meaning exists. Joy exists.
The good things are still there.
LYL xoxoxo