The Sponge: Part 1

     I was watching an old episode of god-knows-what on television today and a woman gave a teenage girl a crystal that would absorb her worries and despair, leaving her with strength and vision. My daughter asked if things like that crystal really worked? I told her, "For some people they do. Things like that have as much power as you give them." Then I wondered to myself, how much power is in belief? If we trust in a rock, or a god, or a person, or a pill, does it have power? The placebo effect isn't a new discovery. The use of a placebo to ease psychological despair is an ages old prescription of relief for the long suffering. It is an actual metric by which we gauge the effectiveness of a drug or treatment. There is in fact power in belief which leads me to believe that power is really only as good as the person who wields it; that the thing, the deity, the rock, the pill is as much good as the one who believes in it. And isn't the purpose of having beliefs to assign something the power to control our interests, our destiny? If not for self interest, what then is the purpose of belief? In order to navigate a senseless world we search for lessons to lessen our pain. Our interests lie in the ease of our own suffering and the accumulation of our heart's desires. When we fail to achieve either, where does that leave us? Do we abandon ship in search of better beliefs, or do we alter our beliefs to suit our circumstances? When life has dealt us blow after blow and our hearts are battered beyond our own recognition, how do we get our power back?

     My experiences over the last few years have taken their toll on my beliefs, my trust, even my health. I don't posses faith in my own instincts nor my abilities. I was never one to feel sure footed but I was certainly once courageous. Now I only feel off balance, as though the ground beneath me is shaking. I once trusted myself enough to face uncertainties with the knowledge that regardless of their outcomes, I would somehow manage the results and be alright. Now... Skepticism has replaced my faith. I am mistrustful of circumstances and people because I no longer trust myself. Wherever I look for answers I uncover only more questions. When I feel isolated and lonely I have a tendency to isolate myself further. My pride forces me to suffer silently, albeit begrudgingly. I feel depleted, like a dry sponge with nothing to wring out and no idea what I should absorb to replenish me. 

     My existence is wearisome. The days ahead feel looming and I can't be still but I find no solace in rest. The only way through appears for now, to be in my own recording. I'll see what I can see and give account to what I find.