Darkness is a harsh term, don't you think?

You want the moon. I didn't choose the name for nothing. Crazy love for It's a Wonderful Life aside, I've always been a dreamer on a large scale. While my dreams in life come in all shapes and sizes, they all seem rather big to me. They're big because they're special. Because they're mine. But while I'm standing on tip-toes reaching out for them, sometimes I get distracted... It doesn't slip my notice that some of my dreams look rather impossible to the outside world. And when I allow myself to shake off the blinkers and look around, I lose my balance. Suddenly I'm on my knees and wondering how I got there again. I beat myself up for not having an A-Z picture perfect plan, for struggling to keep my head above the water, for feeling left behind, for trundling through life without a road map, for nurturing my Peter Pan syndrome, for not listening enough and praying enough... For everything.

Usually dusting myself off after a fall like this is a rather quick affair. But yesterday, I was driving back from the airport and I completely snapped. I turned off the radio and started praying out loud; praying for clarity, direction, happiness, a shut door, an open door, a sign, peace, for His will to be my will, anything and everything. Before I could blink, I was in a flood of tears so blinding I almost had to pull over. It was like finally admitting something was wrong out loud just catapulted me backwards at full throttle. 

I don't know where I'm going. I don't know what I'm doing. And I hate that. But what I hate even more is that I somehow let myself get caught up in the dismal blah of winter, this strange transitional age, this funk, whatever it is. Somehow I got in the nasty habit I dislike most; comparing my chapter to everyone else's. Believing the lie that without a textbook plan or the job everyone fought over in the game of Life or a husband or a dog or a house without roommates who steal my ground chuck or aspirations that don't make strangers laugh out loud when you first meet, that somehow my life is not enough. That I am not enough.

I want a big life. I want the moon. And I believe that with a whole lot of help, I can lasso it and pull it down. Still, I need to remind myself that I'm going to aim and miss again and again and again... and again. It's not going to be a cake walk and it's not meant to be. Waiting has never been something I've really delighted in. Patience is not my forte. If anything, it's the opposite. But the moon isn't going to just fall out of the sky if I scream at it loud enough or stare it down long enough. Patience and skill take practice, conscious and never-ending practice. 

Not knowing the next step is a scary place to be. People talk about standing at the crossroads... I feel like I'm seeing that place approach, but instead of two or three roads branching out from it, there are hundreds and they look absolutely nothing alike. I want so much and that sight, the inevitability of making huge life decisions, is overwhelming. The beauty of it is, though, I don't have to make that decision alone. So before I get irrational in the face of the inevitable, before I so easily forget this game-changing and wonderful fact, I just need to remind myself that I'll never have to make that decision alone. *insert signature dance flail to the following*

"Roll Away Your Stone" ... Mumford & Sons live at Glastonbury 

Being hopeful, ridiculously hopeful, is a good thing. These desires weren't put in your heart for nothing. So know your ground, your Rock, get back on your feet, and reach for the moon all over again.