When you come out of the storm

'Once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through,
how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm
is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm 
you won't be the same person who walked in.
That's what the storm is all about.'

Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore.


The third post in just as many days. Something is changing here; I have not posted this frequently for a good while now. I think I am remembering that writing is good again. I am missing writing my PD Journal for my course, and think I will continue writing this journal in the sound knowledge that it will not have to be evaluated, summarised, evidenced, and graded. How one can mark such a personal and subjective process is beyond me anyway... But I digress. My point is that I miss writing it and will pick it back up again when the time is right. Hopefully I will return to posting these blog posts more often too.

I have been reading Matt Haig's new book, 'Reasons to Stay Alive'. It is written quite beautifully; I found it more endearing and philosophically engaging towards the end, but a very humbling and truthful narrative of his journey to the depths of the ocean and back up again. It is a reminder of what it is to be human, in other words, nothing (really, nothing) in this world is perfect, nor would we wish for it to be. We are both mighty in strength and power yet gloriously insignificant in our size and capacity to initiate change. We are made of the same; dust and stars and skin and bones, yet we exist alone. Matt is an honest reminder of these human facts and the essence of our existence, but also that although we all exist in the same ocean, it looks very different to each one of us. The bottom of the ocean is deep, the top is shallow, and at the top we can float and it is easier to breathe. Maybe even others are there too. But the details are mightily different. Always the details of the waves are different and the same one will probably never come around twice. Even if it did we would most likely not recognise it because we are then better equipped to deal with it. We have developed the protection and armour we need, and it no longer looks the same as the first time it came towering above us.

It feels like I am writing in riddles about waves and the depths of the ocean, but I am trying to write about how I found, in the latter half of this book, a collection of words that were more than just words on a piece of paper. I also found some beautifully selected quotes, one of which I put at the top of the post. It is too beautiful not to. And in a strange way the 'storm' in some respects, could signify many things, perhaps one day, perhaps an entire existence, perhaps a period in time. Perhaps the storm that exists in the depths at the bottom of the ocean. I am not sure; perhaps there is a storm that exists in each of us, and I know there is a storm that exists out there. The point is, is that the storms or the oceans and the tidal waves, they change us. They change a part of who we are. Without going into detail about the the storms I have survived myself, it is worth saying that I see them, I feel them, I work with them, and I know they are out there. I know that for some, armour of steel is needed to survive. In some ways, today has been somewhat of a stormy day. It has been cushioned. But  assessments, presentations and the intensity of watching and waiting and trying to mind-read and decipher facial expressions and singular words, hoping that they mean 'you were more than wonderful' whilst thinking that they really mean 'I really thought you were better than that...'

My writing could last for pages. I am currently wondering why suddenly I am experiencing the onset of losing my voice and swollen painful glands, and also considering whether I should be happy or nervous about today. I then see the time and the papers around me and think it is time I moved them away and got some rest. Before the weekend I advised somebody to take stock and take care; somebody I know who rushes around juggling more balls than I can count but somebody I do care about. I think taking stock is never a bad idea - I have just done it myself and it has worked a treat. The tea helped too.. But tomorrow's storm can be tackled now.