Swift and sudden fall from grace/Sunny days seem far away

The Internet Monk reflects on the the year in his life where the proverbial excrement hit the fan.

Ordinary life, extraordinary events and stuff that just don’t make no sense all combine to rearrange the furniture of my world. Every time I head for a comfortable seat, God sells it. Every time I look for the comfort food, the fridge is empty. Every time I get out my copy of “Things You KNOW Are True,” the dog has eaten it.

I think back over everything I lost since 2004, things ripped from my life which have left a deep gaping wound inside of me which has yet to heal, and struggle to see some sort of rational purpose and reason for it all. And time and time again I've come up empty-handed. I still feel myself lost in the static and noise that's surrounded me since then, and while I can almost see the lights in the distance beckoning me to a brighter future, I can't seem to see for sure if they're really there or if they're just a hallucination of what little optimism I have left still beating inside my addled brain.

A phone call from a friend in Ontario reminded me that the lights are indeed there, they're real, and they're worth working toward. Just keep on trudging, keep on going, don't stop, don't give up, never give up. The lights at the end of the journey aren't just there because you want them to be there. They’ve always been there for you, from the start.