I'm not a believer of hope and my outlook on the world is bleak, yet when I sit down, do absolutely nothing, perhaps while being at the cabin overlooking the clouds in the valley in front of me and being surrounded by the buzzard chirps in the background, the emptiness that remains is the closest feeling of just being there, knowing it all will be just fine, with nothing left to lose. You could call that hope.
Fantastic! Maybe this has an enormous impact because I crossed that bridge from 61 to what remains. Maybe it will have more impact for everyone hoping to celebrate a 61st birthday. May I cross-post this and find out? The recurring theme and conversation in my community is exactly this: "That sense grows stronger, and it speaks not of exhaustion but of return: a longing for what might be called home."
Of course you may share it — I would even encourage you to. And yes, crossing that bridge at 61 might give it extra weight. Still, it feels like there is something more at play than age alone. That sense of not really belonging here seems to grow stronger now. Some call it awakening — whether we like the word or not.
For me, this feeling is new. I never expected to be confronted with it — and yet here it is, unmistakable.
I'm not a believer of hope and my outlook on the world is bleak, yet when I sit down, do absolutely nothing, perhaps while being at the cabin overlooking the clouds in the valley in front of me and being surrounded by the buzzard chirps in the background, the emptiness that remains is the closest feeling of just being there, knowing it all will be just fine, with nothing left to lose. You could call that hope.
Fantastic! Maybe this has an enormous impact because I crossed that bridge from 61 to what remains. Maybe it will have more impact for everyone hoping to celebrate a 61st birthday. May I cross-post this and find out? The recurring theme and conversation in my community is exactly this: "That sense grows stronger, and it speaks not of exhaustion but of return: a longing for what might be called home."
Of course you may share it — I would even encourage you to. And yes, crossing that bridge at 61 might give it extra weight. Still, it feels like there is something more at play than age alone. That sense of not really belonging here seems to grow stronger now. Some call it awakening — whether we like the word or not.
For me, this feeling is new. I never expected to be confronted with it — and yet here it is, unmistakable.