I sit here by the fire, finishing out my evening with some fine single malt scotch. In my solitude and reflection, I attempt to rein in my thoughts from the past few months. I try to pinpoint one topic to write about. That is hard. My mind is usually racing with observations and questions, never quite resting long enough for me to gather them as my mind runs through thought after thought.
I enjoy a good fire. Small and quaint or large and boisterous, there is something calming about a good burn. Sitting outside, feeling the dew creep through your pants; the outdoors seem like home. The various noises that fill the night air are my therapy while I process the day. It's just me and nature. No pain, no suffering, the absence of hurt and despair. A sacred place where I can come to renew my spirit to take on another day.
It honestly sucks being so aware. I ask God daily why I have been burdened with a view into the hearts of others. Both strangers and friends, I can feel the pain from a simple glance. Sometimes it literally hits me like a brick, causing me to take a step back and fall emotionally crippled. There is nothing I can do, nothing I can say to take away the pain. This curse of seeing those things in which I cannot change takes much courage to bear. A courage that seems to escape me each day.
So I put on an act. Play the part that one wants me to be. Create laughter and joy, causing them to forget their pain. This is my place, my role in this moment. It used to frustrate me, but I have learned to accept it. Don't let the sarcasm and smirk fool you, there is so much more happening underneath.
Find me by a fire,
with some fine Irish whiskey.
Beneath the stars
and a little damp from the dew.
There I will be content,
having finished the day's play.
Only then,
should you truly listen,
to the words that I say.