This week I decided to try cycling to work again. I hadn’t cycled to work (or anywhere) in a really long time — maybe the start of the year, or toward the end of last year — and I thought it was about time I tried again.
Of course, that’s not to say I cycled every day this week. I only cycled on Wednesday, when I thought the workload would be manageable enough that I wouldn’t be left too exhausted to cycle home. Fortunately, the weather was also quite mild that day, so it seemed like the best opportunity.
I have what most would call a fear of heights. I prefer to call it a fear of falling from great heights, since, if I feel secure and not at risk of falling, I can stand in high places without much anxiety. But I wonder if maybe I’m not afraid of heights or falling at all.
For a long time now, believing that I have this fear, I have at times challenged myself to peer from great heights to places and things far below. For example, if I am in one of those kinds of elevators that have glass walls, I will watch the lower floors as they become more and more distant. If I happen to go to an observation deck or some other high-up balcony or vantage point of a very tall building, I will go right up to the railing and look out. Continue reading
This phrase (yes, the one in the title) has been popping into my head quite often in recent weeks (or months?)
I actually remember, when I was a kid, this saying made no sense to me. Of course, back then, I only knew one meaning/application of the word “shy”.
I was a shy kid. But that’s a topic for another post (or not).
Although you might be afraid of being vulnerable
Although you know that they will leave, or that it won’t last
Even if there’s a chance they won’t reciprocate your sentiments (at all, or to the same extent)
If it would hurt more to shut them out than to let them in
If you know it would make you happy to make them happy
If you love them at all
As I walked to the bus stop this morning (it was my turn to work the Saturday shift today), I had some unexpectedly profound thoughts. I asked myself: What keeps you up at night?
(Side note: Ironically, as I was writing the initial draft for this post, I was feeling really sleepy. About three paragraphs in, my browser suddenly crashed for no apparent reason, so I lost most of the initial draft. I’m not re-typing this, and might take a different angle now that I’m slightly more awake after having brushed my teeth.)
What keeps me up at night?
That was my first response. But what am I afraid of?
So many things. Mostly intangible things.
Things like not having the chance to tell people the things that I should tell them.
Things like maybes and what ifs and should I haves.
And a fear of not knowing.
Apologies if this post sounds a bit despondent or melodramatic. I don’t think that I’m usually sad when I have these thoughts – more contemplative than anything – but, on paper, it can come across quite differently.
And, as a final note, there’s no need to worry: I don’t lose much sleep over this. I only really lose sleep from losing track of time (both intentionally and unintentionally) and going to bed later than I should.
I wonder who else is up at such late hours, thinking, pondering, contemplating…
Although I don’t actively seek out good quotable quotes, I do like coming across them when I do. We have a little quote-per-day desk calendar at work, and usually the quotes are irrelevant or too long or uninteresting or otherwise not quotable, but there was a good one the other day. This particular quote I found so agreeable that I tore it from the calendar at the end of the day, and went to share it with the FS crew across the hall. And now I’m sharing it here:
For every feared thing there is an opposing hope that encourages us – Umberto Eco
At this point in my original draft for this post, I proceeded to analyse this quote and discuss my interpretation and thoughts on it. However, in this case, I think less is more. The quote itself is quite straightforward, really, and it’s all the more beautiful and profound for it’s simplicity.