Unwritten
“Staring at the blank page before you - Open up the dirty window - Let the sun illuminate the words - That you could not find - Reaching for something in the distance - So close you can almost taste it - Release your inhibitions - Feel the rain on your skin - No one else can feel it for you - Only you can let it in - No one else, no one else - Can speak the words on your lips - Drench yourself in words unspoken - Live your life with arms wide open - Today is where your book begins - The rest is still unwritten” – Natasha Bedingfield, “Unwritten”
I was looking for a video to go along with a blog post I wanted to write about meaning and purpose; a blog post that was still unwritten, and found this one. Funny thing is, this is the song I used to listen to when I needed inspiration to keep going. Throughout my first time at college; at 38. Throughout my fitness journey; to prepare myself for policing. Throughout my military and policing training; when I wanted to quit. Throughout my physical rehab; after injury, after injury, after injury. Throughout the aftermath of the trauma and storms in my life that led to my divorce; when I wanted to quit life. Throughout my psychological rehab; when I was forced, once again to start over. And, throughout my spiritual journey; when I almost gave up on finding meaning and purpose again. I ran countless kilometers to this song. Drove, mile after mile, singing along to this song as a kind of mantra; an affirmation for myself, that I should keep going. That there was still something worth living for and striving for, even when things got really dark; that my future was unwritten and that I still had something to strive for. I sang the words over and over again, without even realizing that they would someday, mean more to me than I would ever know.
A lot has happened to me throughout the past twelve years; trial after trial, loss after loss, trauma after trauma, ending after ending. New beginning, after new beginning. A lot of staring, at the blank page before me. A lot of unwritten words, on that blank page. A lot of trying to re-invent myself and my life; doing constant re-writes and sending out new pages. A lot of striving and becoming, renewing and recapturing. A lot of trying too hard to figure out what it was that was going to fill a giant hole in my life by whatever loss I’d just experienced; each time I experienced another loss. A lot of reaching, “for something in the distance”; versus looking at what was in front of me. Never getting close enough to, “taste it”, but always just close enough to almost; taste it, reach it, feel it, experience it, have it. There was always something missing. Everything I thought I wanted, and I strived for was either temporary, or just out of reach. But that is because I was striving.
To strive; to exert oneself vigorously, try hard, to make strenuous efforts toward any goal, to contend in opposition, battle, or any conflict, compete, to struggle vigorously, as in opposition or resistance, to strive against fate. The problem with striving, is that you are going against the grain; or in my case, against my true purpose; against fate.
My life was a blank page, future, as yet unwritten; by me, but set out before me, if I wanted to see it as such. Meaning and purpose is the same. You shouldn’t have to strive to find it. If it’s meant for you and aligns with you, at the very core of your being, it should come to you with more ease. You shouldn’t have to battle, compete or struggle with opposition to have it. The ink, with which to write your story on those blank pages, should flow like water in a waterfall; unceasing and ever-flowing, and it should belong to you. Your path should be something that is brightly illuminated for you; where you can see the picture of what it will look like when you arrive at your destination and find and fulfill that meaning and purpose. It should be something that you do not have to ‘strive’ for but something that comes naturally to you. Not something of a supernatural nature; but of a natural one. Something you see as common to you but that provides you with peace, while participating in it.
I’ve always believed that everything happens for a reason, and that things work out in the end, as they were meant. I have not always, had patience to wait to see these things come to fruition. I’ve not always trusted that they would come to pass, as they were meant to pass; in the time, in which they were meant to come to pass. All things in good time, was a concept that I liked to believe in but didn’t really adhere to. Sometimes, because I didn’t have a choice; sometimes I had to feed my family and do something that brought meaning to my life. Sometimes, it was simply a vain attempt at showing others that they were wrong about me; that I could do anything I put my mind to. Instead of showing myself what I was truly good at, and was meant for me. Sometimes, it was about showing others how I thrived under adversity and that I would keep ‘striving’, despite this adversity. What I didn’t realize, was that the adversity wasn’t always necessary; wasn’t always something or someone else’s doing. Sometimes, the adversity came from the striving, itself. Sometimes I created it, myself; by striving, for something that wasn’t meant for me. By writing someone else’s words, on someone else’s paper; writing someone else’s book. Sometimes, even with ink that was poisonous to me. Sometimes, I made things harder than they needed to be. Sometimes, because even though I knew what was right for me; what I was called to do, I wanted to do something different.
I did all of these things that I strived for; I’ve had a few different careers, a few marriages, lived in a few different places, and gone to school a few times, for similar but different things. I loved all of them. I wanted all of them but all of them were temporary. Partly because they weren’t meant to be permanent, and partly because I’d copied someone else’s words, when writing my own story. Copied family members, ancestors, mentors and other people I looked up to. I’d created a really fascinating and intriguing story; filled with adventure and crazy ups and downs, but it wasn’t really mine. The details of it were someone else’s; books I’d read, movies I’d watched or stories I’d been told. I was striving to have what they had; something extraordinary and uncommon for someone like me, who came from, where I came from; the gutter. Instead of looking deep within me, and around me; at the common. At what was ordinary and common to me; what came naturally to me. I needed to write my own words, and my own true story; from the inspiration, I felt within me, and that was written in my own ink.
I feel like it’s the same for everyone; what’s easy and feels natural, is most often your truth. What you have to strive for; that comes with many obstacles and difficulty, is usually someone else’s story that you’re inserting yourself into. A story that you want to be yours but that doesn’t make sense for you. It’s a story written in someone else’s words, that you’re trying to make fit with your life. The details; including things like, relationships, careers, home and family, friendship, and other things that make a life, a life. When the details don’t match yours, they don’t bring you as much joy as those that do. Even though the details of your story; the precise language in which it is written, or words used, within the pages, have not yet been written by you, it should feel like a book that you’ve read a thousand times, in a thousand different languages. If it does not feel this way, or if you have to strive to have it; if the path to it is rocky and difficult, maybe it’s not your biography. Maybe, it’s just a story you want to tell.
I’ve been there, I’ve sat there too long and I’ve spent too much time trying to write someone else’s story; and I’m done with that now. I’ve opened up the “dirty window”, and now, I’m letting “the sun, illuminate the words”; my words. And, with this new clarity; this new beginning, I am re-writing my story. I’m writing my biography and living my truth, And, I’ve suddenly stopped striving because this path now feels natural and common to me. Because the words that I’m now writing within the pages of my book, feel like ones I’ve read, a thousand times, and in a thousand languages; they finally feel like my own. And even though this new beginning is unwritten by me, I know that it is a story that has been written deep inside my soul since the day I was created. Written in permanent ink. It’s what I was created for, and I cannot wait to start writing these words, through the inspiration I’m feeling. Inspiration that is natural and common to me. I cannot wait to write the true story of me.