Everything isn’t a puzzle. Nothing here is damaged or broken. I remind myself that who I am today is okay. Long ago, I stopped looking to make things whole. Pieces of a puzzle can be their own thing. In fact, I can create a different image with each piece. Who says that I must put together someone else’s picture?
Just because a land is ruined doesn’t mean I cannot plant flowers there. Something ugly can be beautiful again if I want it to be. A garden doesn’t grow overnight. To plant any flower, my hands will get dirty. I remind myself to pack extra gloves just in case I lose a pair.
Why is God the scapegoat? Evil exists because I allow it. I think about the wars that are fought. All these people who suffer so I don’t have to. The land is stripped away of its green to be turned into money. What I find ironic is how I create my own demons. Hell is a place I’ve called home that is built where someone else’s house used to be.
It’s never been about the destination. The journey is the most important part in the travel. Yet I wonder how far have I come? How much further do I have to go before I reach where I’m trying to be? What I’ve learned is that life is no vacation. Hardly is there ever a place to rest.
There’s a difference between leaving somewhere and reaching it. Why am I here? To escape from a place or to find its location? That’s the problem with having no destination. I forget where I’m going and my reason for leaving where I was. Being lost has nothing to do with being directionless. Losing your way means not having anywhere to go.
Instead of a maze, I’m on barren land. Everywhere I look, I see nothing. A maze provides a trail to follow, while barren land gives access to nothing. Barren land reveals a world that is abandoned. It says, I’m the last man on earth. However, I cannot help but feel safe here.
Maybe I should see everything as a puzzle. Instead of putting pieces together, I’ll make sense of its image. This barren land may be the destination I’ve been searching for. So I’ll take what is ruined and rebuild something new in its place. Plant seeds in scorched earth and make a garden. Take what is dead and breathe life back into it. Isn’t that what a god does?
If I want better, I can have it. Since I have no destination, a home can be anywhere. Who says where I am now can’t be my vacation spot? Why must I go where someone else tells me I must be? If I’m happy here then why leave it? Why escape anywhere? Maybe where I want to go is where I’ve always been. Maybe it’s not about the journey but the realization that I don’t have to go anywhere. I can rest because I know it’s okay to be here.