I cannot

No matter our best intentions, there are days when we think

“I cannot.”

I cannot do this. I cannot be who they want me to be. I cannot finish what I started. I cannot breath. I cannot take this any more. I cannot live this way. I cannot stand this noise. I cannot grow/do better/understand.

I cannot.

And there it is. We are done.

Who do you turn to when you hit this realization? Is it an inward turning, hoping others won’t discover your proclaimed inability? Do you turn toward your pastor, your friend, a spiritual companion/director, a therapist? Do you turn to the trees, the plants, the wind?

What happens when you utter these words: do you give up? do you sink into a miasma of despair? do you just go on with the other aspects of your day?


Do you change direction?

What do you fill the space with, that “cannot” occupies?

Every once in a while, “I cannot” is not a statement of defeat, but a statement of realization. It is like our bodies/minds/spirits/emotions say “Hey, wow, let’s go over here because this direction? Its not working.” And so we go. We turn. We re-evaluate. We laugh. We live.

My husband, the local acupuncturist says a million times a day “If you keep doing what you’ve always done, you’ll always get what you’ve always gotten.” Sometimes the totality of who we are knows better than we think. And the way is made to change. Way is made to recover. Way is made to get out. Way is made to jump in a car and drive across the land to kiss an ocean*. Way is made to look up on a Sunday morning and move out of the pew, or into the pew.

When way is made, “I cannot” becomes a launch pad.

I cannot help but move on. I cannot help but laugh. I cannot help but grow. I cannot help but turn life into something new. I cannot keep from opening the windows wide. I cannot turn back.

Oh glorious day, when are not the same as we were yesterday.



*a nod to my courageous and creative friend



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