Writing Reflective

My hiatus feels quite extensive. It has been a number of months since I have publicly written as I am now swinging back from another pendulum maximum. My life has never been fixed on middle ground. For some reason, I equate such a midpoint with stagnation and mediocrity. On the other hand, the extremes of belief and thought are lonely and rigid, full of judgment and pride.

It seems that life is not to be centered on a fulcrum while ideas and convictions teeter-totter on either side; myself just an unmoved observer of mankind's perpetual past time activity of see and saw, did and done. I have found that I can pretty much remain unchanged and unmotivated (although quite unhappy) if I am utterly dishonest.

A rejection of who I am, what I enjoy, whom I care, or how I feel eventually leaves me confused as to my very purpose on this earth. I know this might sound drastic and dangerous, but it only makes sense that being honest with myself would allow me to weave together internal processes with external out-workings. So I continue on - seeking truth with a trembling heart at times. Can I trust that the desire for truth will be rewarded or at least recognized as honest?

I continue to walk. The once-so-clear future exists in a haze of uncomfortability. All I can do is put the right in front of the left. Whether my right is right I do not know for certain. Faith has a new meaning.