I’ve typed, backspaced, retyped, this first sentence over and over. There’s something that feels nearly insurmountable about choosing the right words for starting a journey. I keep thinking about the first half of a quote from Charles Spurgeon, in which he says,
Begin as you mean to go on, and go on as you began.
A simple instruction. Start things with intention. Be clear in your purpose. Do whatever thing it is that you are doing exactly as you intend to do it. I like this in theory. Practice, however, seems to always be the place where things take on a mind of their own.
Take the title of this newsletter: “The Cracks are Still There”. I’d like to say I chose it with intention, seeing a grand picture of what that phrase means to me and how it represents what it is I want these posts to be. But I’d be lying if I said that. Instead, I was sitting with a feeling: something big, angry, scary, and heartbroken, and that phrase simply popped into my head, and so I ran with it. If I were to write a version of Charles’ quote that felt more apropos to me, it would probably be something like,
Begin as your moment creates, and in that moment create a new beginning.
So hi, this is a new beginning, created by a moment. I’m Kyle. I have very little idea specifically what these posts are going to be about, but, given the moments I find myself in lately, there’s a good chance they’ll cover topics related to adult ADHD, Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria (RSD), the nature (and pain) of friendships, and others based on whatever my future moments create. I’ll likely include a poem of mine in each post if I find something that fits.
A couple of topics I know I’ll be writing about soon:
Worse than invisible: how it feels to be seen, misunderstood, and rejected
The armour of science: when analyzing your emotions gets in the way of feeling them
Anyway, here’s a poem for today. It’s called bloom.
I observe that
Anthesis and antithesis
Bear such a striking resemblance
As to alter my perception of their meaning.
But, what is the budding flower if not a
Counterpoint to dormancy?
A shedding of seasons,
A bolt of colour to conquer the grey?
Indeed, I observe the obverse –
By attending to each petal,
And in each small moment, I understand
The shape of the hour within the day.
This awareness blooming within me
Serves to oppose an empty gaze.
In sweet seconds of dearest distraction
I observe that I am closer to heaven than I have ever been.
