The Things That Keep Us

Life is like assembling a piece of furniture: the directions we were given never seem to properly correlate with the pieces we have, wavering any step towards progress with uncertainty. Consider changed minds, natural disasters, and the inevitability of a broken promise and stability stands before us like an evasive dream.

While the unknown will always exceed the known, it will not always outweigh it. The majority will shatter and the strongest tradition may be change, but there are things that, even still, remain.

These are the things that keep us.

One of my favorite things is making my 90-year old grandma laugh. She’s struggled with memory loss for a few years, making it especially hard for my family who lives and loves her closer than I can from a few hours away, but her accidental bitterness is swept away by laughter, giving me good reason to be silly during our phone calls and occasional visits. Yet I’ve discovered another reason for our exchanges is the sense of grounding I get from hearing her laugh; a reminder that in that moment, I am just a granddaughter. It doesn’t matter how much or little I achieved that day, who let who down, or if I am what I had dreamt of being. In a world where everything seems to change, my grandma-ma’s laughter reminds me my feet still stand on solid ground.

The things that keep us are the things we carry with us wherever we go, but in the hustle and, dare I say, the bustle, we forget we have. Sometimes these things come from people. Sometimes they’re just things. Whatever they may be, their existence continues without consideration of our personal progress.

Fresh flowers in a room of natural light, the sound of the birds’ morning song, wind rushing through an open window, a favorite smell, a wholesome memory, laughter, persistent kindness. They are the things that keep us sane; the things that, in the midst of uncertainty, remind us of who we are. They are our heartbeat; the fundamentals.

Like most acquired skills, we won’t get very far along if we forget the fundamentals, yet these things are usually forgotten because we can only remember them in stillness. Stillness demands reflection, reflection self-definition. When stability evades us, we prefer the noise of the hustle over settling down long enough to admit things are not as we had planned. But if we are so afraid of admitting we are not yet who we’ve dreamt of becoming, we will forget who we are in the first place, allowing dreams of tomorrow to be defined by people and things that really should not concern us.

Just like we would not be hungry if we weren’t meant to eat, we desire stability because we were designed to have it. How we acquire, or rather, where we find this stability is up to us to discover. What keeps you? Will it still? Questions to be asked in stillness.

Turn away from the noise. Allow both time and space for what’s buried to immerge. Fear, doubt, tears and a waves of rage may arise but if we brave the storm of discomfort, we’ll find what’s been there all along, cheering us on.