Balancing Act

Exploring the Interplay of Faith and Doubt

I'll be honest; I'm not feeling particularly inspired to write today. It's 2:50, and I've just opened my computer, already feeling a bit worn out before even typing a full sentence.

Describing this week isn't easy; it's been rather uneventful, with neither remarkable highs nor lows. While I've often found inspiration in such moments before, this week feels different – it's as if I'm in a state of emptiness.

I had anticipated a pleasant weekend, or at least I thought I had. However, my current pessimistic mood might be intensified by the fact that I've barely had ten hours of sleep throughout the entire weekend, all thanks to work.

Interior with woman reading by the lamp, by Karl Jensen (1851-1933)

I suppose I could delve into the past few days when I found myself in an unusual amount of seclusion, locked away in my room, where the same ten songs played on an endless loop.

It was a period where I seemed oblivious to the fact that my hair now carries the distinct aroma of maplewood pumpkin, courtesy of the latest addition to my autumn candle collection. I genuinely intended to wash my hair over the weekend; the desire was there, but somehow, amidst staring at my ceiling and consciously ignoring the looming realization, I found myself lacking the energy to do so.

It's becoming increasingly evident that the ongoing struggle with my work/life balance over the past few weeks is evolving into a subtle sense of despondency, accompanied by a growing resentment towards my own productivity.

From what I've gathered through a few social media posts, the emotions I'm grappling with didn't suddenly surface in the past few days. They'd been lurking just over my shoulder for weeks, patiently waiting for the right moment to envelop me. Yet, the distractions brought by the arrival of autumn offered a temporary respite, creating a sort of distorted reality where I could find solace.

I immersed myself in videos discussing fall scents, browsed through every cashmere outfit on some of my favorite websites, and created the first draft of my reading list for the upcoming months. I even put together a vision board, and for a fleeting moment, everything seemed to align.

I was distracted, but I was present. Now I’m neither and I hate it.

While my vision board brims with numerous dreams and ambitions, my primary goal centers on turning these aspirations into tangible realities. However, my most important objective transcends the material world, focusing on dedicating more time to the people who occupy my thoughts and to the divine presence I hold dear in my prayers.

Whether one identifies with religious, spiritual, or neither category is peripheral in the context of this newsletter – but personally, I find solace in knowing that amidst all this unpredictability in life, one thing remains constant in mine. Naturally, I intend to nurture that.

It's intriguing how discussions about religion and spirituality have been permeating many of my recent conversations, always initiated by others and never by me. I've always hesitated to broach this topic, as it feels deeply personal.

These conversations, however, wield a unique power. They have the ability to unveil an individual's perspective on the world, even when one hasn't fully explored or articulated their beliefs.

When the subject of religion or spirituality arises, it's as if a veil is lifted, offering a peek into the inner workings of a person's mind and their comprehension of life's profound questions. This phenomenon serves as a reminder of how our beliefs, whether consciously examined or not, shape our outlook, values, and interactions with the world. These conversations act as mirrors, reflecting the intricacies of our inner landscapes, often revealing aspects of ourselves that we may not have consciously acknowledged or shared.

Thankfully, I have my strong beliefs to guide me, a hurdle I've already overcome. But there's another challenge I'm grappling with.

I often tell myself and others to trust in life's timing, a principle I firmly believe in. However, as I continue on this path with faith, I can't help but wonder if I'm only moving forward because I haven't seen a stop sign yet.

It's a bit ironic because faith usually makes people see a distraction-free road as a sign they're on the right track. However, my natural pessimism makes me doubt if I'm just moving forward because I'm lost & wandering. I'm in this odd space where I question if my faith is propelling me or if my fear of turning back shows a growing doubt in it. (Not doubt in faith itself, but in my relationship with it.)

I thought I had overcome this hurdle before, but maybe it's just one of those times when everything feels a bit fragile. Especially because lately, the recurring patterns in my life have been weighing on me.

I want to write for myself, but I end up overthinking and deleting my entries after a few lines. I aim to be a diligent worker, but the fear of failing pushes me to overwork and burn out. I crave nobility, but I second-guess every step, to the point where a seemingly straightforward path appears deceptive.

I guess this would be the place where I ask if any of you have dealt with this, 'cause I'm over and underwhelmed by it all. Have you ever found yourself trapped in the cycle of self-doubt and overthinking? And speaking of balance, have you ever grappled with the delicate equilibrium between faith and doubt, where the absence of obstacles feels both reassuring and disconcerting? Because, quite honestly, I could use some tips at this point.

Anyways, this entry might come across as a bit pessimistic, but I want to reassure you that I'm doing just fine. As I write this, I'm actually in a relaxed state, listening to Miles Davis' 'Blue In Green,' and indulging in spoonfuls of peanut butter because I'm too lazy to make the toasted peanut butter and honey sandwich I've been craving for the past hour.

I even heated up some honey ginger tea, and after a brief kitchen debate about using the toaster or stove to heat my bread, I decided to opt for the tea and the household's tub of peanut butter (I'll probably get yelled at for that later, but oh well). I'll wash my hair, relight the candle, and everything will be back to normal.

So, no need to picture me disheveled or worn out – I'll be just fine.

Best,

S