Readers Who are Krazy for Kindle: In the midst of chaos comes clarity...

February 24, 2011

In the midst of chaos comes clarity...

I love those moments in action films when there's an elaborate pause, just that few seconds slowed down and sharpened, when the hero realizes he's in trouble. The audience can see the bullet twisting through the air, or the sword gleaming as it slashes down, or the click and whoosh of the bomb before it explodes.

Sometimes, clarity brings with it a sense of peace. You reach a pinnacle of knowledge, of a choice that must be made no matter how painful, and somehow, too, the courage needed to make it, to move forward. It's like that climactic scene in The Matrix when Neo comes back from death and sees the world around him as it really is ... and how to operate within it. All those earlier problems that seemed so scary and impossible are nothing more than annoyances. There is strength and power and knowledge, and that creates confidence.

Yes, there is power in knowing a truth about yourself. There's nothing more awesome than untangling an emotional knot and laying out all the now straightened strands for examination. And you can see those elements are not quite as important, or as impossible, as previously believed. And here, yet another movie reference (sorry, I can't seem to stop myself): It's like that scene in Labyrinth when Sarah looks at the Goblin King and says, "You have no power over me."

When fussing with a particularly thorny problem, my vision is blurry and gray around the edges, and my stomach feels like I've swallowed shards of glass and pieces of lead, and I can't breathe or think and everything just feels so freaking heavy. In these moments, I try to remember what a friend of mine always tells me, "Nothing is forever." Or another variation: This, too, shall pass. It really helps to know that I will not always be standing in this place dealing with that situation. There will be relief. Change. Knowledge. Clarity.

Sometimes, this means accepting oh, that ... my daughter and grandson must return to their lives in Florida. To the core, I know this is the right thing for them, and for me, but the day they leave, I'll be sad. And yeah, I'll cry. But past the sadness, even past the acceptance, is the peace created by the realization this is right. Good. Exactly as it should be.

And last week, after being emotionally wrought (Dear Insecurities: You sucketh much.), I muddled through it all and found myself not only reassured, but suddenly sure. Uh-huh. Filled to the brim with the knowledge that I could not only claim the wonderful, I already had. It was mine. Confidence and peace. Clarity.