LIGHT FROM THE DARK MIND

MAYBE FOR A MOMENT I WILL BE DIRECTIONLESS We’re so obsessed with knowing. Knowing who we are. Knowing where we’re going. Knowing how the future will play out, or who we will fall in love with. Knowing what we’re meant to do or where we’re supposed to end up. Knowing the person we should be, the person we are, the person we will become. We want to know everything. And so much of my life has been lived that way – searching, looking, wanting. I’ve been on a constant loop – a record on repeat – scratching the vinyl, droning on and on in seamless static. I keep thinking that if I try hard enough, if I push myself a little more, I’ll figure this whole thing out. I’ll understand what path I’m supposed to be walking on, what steps I’m supposed to take. I’ve always been one to plan, to lay out the map before me and plot out a route. When it comes to the unknown, I’ve struggled.  I want to know. I want to understand. I want to choose. But what I’ve realized is I don’t have any

An Ode To Vulnerability I get it. Vulnerability is a lot easier to preach than it is to practice. Deciding to bare your soul is one of the riskiest things you can do in a relationship. It opens you up to criticism. It leaves you with nothing to hide behind or to take cover underneath. But if you want to truly engage in a long-term relationship, you need to stop running. You need to stop hiding. Love is a trust fall, one that can be terrifying. Once you begin to fall, you lose control. You can't ever know whether the other person will ultimately keep you safe or let you hit the ground. It's the uncertainty that sends you reeling as far away from the idea of emotional transparency as you can possibly get. There's a lot at stake; namely, your own heart. It's easy to retreat, to want to hold onto some of your own power, to deny the fact that you've placed so much of your faith into someone else. But the act of trust, that suspension of disbelief, is what l