Looking over recent feelings, posts, scribblings, and memories, I have really come to believe that the last couple of years have been wave after wave of conflict. Sometimes it rolls in steady and bearable like the ocean ought. But there is rain and there are hurricanes; sometimes these last for weeks and sometimes they pass in hours. All the same, my life has greatly resembled this metaphoric ocean in both storms and showers. Conflict carries a corrosive connotation and for good reason. It chisels down past the good hair days and nothing to wear days right to the dissatisfaction of your soul. Giant rocks of insecurity get broken down into bits of sand. Every so often one of those turns into a jagged stone that catches skin and makes you bleed. But you still bleed red. You still feel pain. While the storm cares not, you know that you still feel and sometimes that really is consolation.
So the salty air blows and the wound burns and heals. It forms soft new skin that is easily pierced again. I could really take this metaphor too far, but someone wise once told me that the best use of metaphors is to drop them sooner than later. It would be a nice little wrap-up right now if I could say that "I only have one question and it is..." but I have half a dozen at least. One day, perhaps, there will be resolution. But for now the storm of confusion and frustration rages on and leaves an awkward mess in its wake.
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