Lake Merritt

                Loving yourself is a task in itself, you say. In the weeks since the New Year started, I’ve begun to think about the direction of my life. Am I doing something that will eventually lead to a fulfilling life? Am I answering the questions that comprise my life’s goals?

                Many of these questions have continued to occupy my mind as I go in a separate, uncharted direction. Yesterday, I had the privilege of checking out an apartment in Lake Merritt—two blocks from the lake. After peering into the closet of the ‘apartment’ listed for $1200 a month, I decided to drive to the lake, because it was getting dark and I didn’t want to walk.

                And then I saw this:

                The 25+ minutes I spent on the freeway getting to this city started to make sense: human beings are supposed to be near water: to cherish it, to bathe in it, and to drink it. The glimmering lights reflecting on the surface of the lake just cemented my willingness to move to Oakland.

                And maybe it’s a little romantic—I was swayed by the natural scenery instead of thinking about how I’ll basically have to live in a closet to be here. But just walking along the lake in my work clothes… my old black slacks and gray shirt… and being surrounded by joggers with dogs and fast-walkers, I was envious of these exercisers at 6PM in the evening. I was envious of the water, how beautiful it looked under the night sky, projecting its vastness unto mere mortals. This is here. This is now. Forevermore, or until we can survive to be the stewards of it. And not just of the natural environment. Of the spirit that pervade—through an experience of the sublime, through dreams, through epiphanic realizations of the universe. This spirit that lives in us, waiting to encompass our being.

                I’ve lived the past two years at home. It hasn’t been bad. I’ve taken up hobbies and met new people through climbing. But now it seems, I’m ready to make my mark and leave what has given me comfort for so long.

I tried to climb this on Sunday. 

I’ve thought about my infatuations with the world and have come to this: I am in love with life. Life has provided me with the things I want—but that is not to say it has not provided me with disappointment, either. And somehow, it’s really difficult at the same time. Some part of me wants to say that it shouldn’t be this difficult.

But as I discussed with a friend last night, accepting another’s differences is like fitting another piece in the puzzle that is another human being. Friendship is an enigma—what determines whether two people can actually be friends? What determines compatibility? Some would say fate. Some would say faith. Some would say happenstance or personality or just simply being at the right place at the right time.

Yesterday, I was at the right place at the right time. But as with all things in life, even the right decision at the wrong time is still a wrong decision. And I’m trying—I’m trying really hard to contain my feelings and it seems not to dissipate. I think to myself, ‘it won’t work out,’ while hoping, secretly, that it does. I think, ‘I should move on,’ while my emotions tell me that this is unique—this is special—and that there is no right place, no right time. Life and I—we are in this relationship and we are trying to make it work. We always have. That’s no guarantee of anything else, though.

And I’m trying to tell myself, ‘It’ll be okay. She [life] will come around. You’ll be fine. Just love yourself and the rest will take of itself. You are worth it.’