Meditations on “Maybe”

Maybe I don’t have to know all the answers. I can stop searching my pain on the internet to find someone to hold hands with it. I can stop trying to solve it, and just let my heart burn as it wants to burn.

Maybe I will fail my children, make wrong turns, hurt feelings, be self-absorbed. Life is not stuck in one position or the other. I can fail and then succeed. I can succeed and then disappoint. I can love as best I can each day and learn to be at peace with that.

Maybe I don’t have to understand why you left. I can accept my value without weighing it against your uncertainty. I can hurt on my own and heal on my own without pulling you into the constant tide of needing to feel worthy. I can choose to hear the waves crash and appreciate their beauty rather than ponder their breaking and receding. I am not the wave. You are not the ocean. I am not bound to your love.

Maybe I will not be able to save the people I love. I can honor their autonomy and offer my love. I can understand that everyone’s heart is their own, their bodies and minds belong to them. Though I can imagine my love holds the gravity of the moon to pull at the tides, I can accept that you will always be outside of my reach. You are only yours to save.

Maybe I will be ok. I can let my heart burn and eyes water. I can turn my mind to focus on the things it loves, to find its love for self again. I can take brave steps: get dressed, brush my teeth, sooth my skin with lotion and let it be a metaphor for what might be. I can accept healing will come — no matter how slowly it arrives. I know peace will be its companion and I will welcome it.

Maybe holds despair and hope at the same time. It accepts what isn’t certain and grieves what is lost — yet has the audacity to remain a light no matter the dark it may dwell in.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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