It is oftentimes difficult, perhaps nearly impossible, to express the depths of one’s heart on paper or in words. How easy is it to feel deep emotion and feelings, yet know not how to intelligibly express them?
The more I write, the more I am convinced that I do not have a philosopher’s mind . . . that I am incapable of putting words eloquently into perfect paragraphs . . . that writing at all does not come as easily as I once thought.
But the more I write, the more I am convinced of my love for words, though I may stumble with them . . . the more I am convinced of my nature to feel every type of emotion deeply . . . but at the same time, know not how to correctly express them.
I may have an impatient nature, a sometimes restless spirit . . . but at the same time, am developing a simultaneous contemplative nature as I grow older. As with many of my writings, I have beforehand mulled over the potential words which I will type. It all seems to make sense in my head and, more strongly, in my heart . . . yet when it comes to this blog entry, the correct words are difficult to squeeze out.
I have thought of my life as a sapling, though I may already be in my mid-twenties. A sapling is a tree that is very small, that has grown just a bit above the earth, and has enough wherewithal to glance around at the world. It is old enough to soak in the warm rays of the sun, yet many might not view it as strong enough to bear the winds of a violent spring storm. However, this particular sapling is a stubborn one, of a resilient strain, and looks eagerly around at the tall and glorious grown oak trees around it. The sight of these oak trees gives courage to the sapling; these trees were saplings at one time, and they weathered many a spring storm without withering away. They have known more life than the sapling, but they are eager to welcome it into their forest. They know that the tiny tree will one day take their place in the circle of life. And so the sapling is determined to be just as strong as the oaks before it, to weather each storm as it comes, and to soak up every glorious ray of the summer sun in preparation for the long, inevitable winters.
I have a particular analogy in mind as I write this paragraph, and I wonder if it would be cruel to keep my readers guessing. You need only look at the title of my blog to have an idea of what I am referring to, although it will not give you an exact answer. The story actually can be interpreted in two very similar ways, with the saplings and the grown oaks both representing parallel groups of people . . . human beings who have very different roles, yet are only able to do their duty well because of the other . . . human beings who operate on different tracks, but come back to the same station . . . human beings who are proud of what the other does, though their individual tasks are different.
A particular movie I watched recently was the inspiration for this piece, which makes what I have to say even harder to put into words. I would not be able to properly summarize the movie nor do my own feelings justice. Perhaps it is because it is especially poignant during a deployment, and to write about the feelings portrayed in the movie would be to spill out my own raw feelings.
There appears to be no point to this post, other than to attempt presenting real life in the most ethereal but honest way possible so as not to come across as overly-emotional or harsh. Again, I sit here and stare at my computer screen and wonder how this should end . . . or should it have an end at all? This is certainly not the end, but how does one put a period where there should not be a stop?