Cherished and Forgotten

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Vemödalen. 

The fear that everything has already been done. 

When I first came across this word I nodded it off, not giving it a second thought. Today it tails every thought in my mind, pulling back each one that wishes to break through and live a life of its own. It crushes them half-baked before I can put a sense to them, before I can give them space to grow into themselves. It mocks every feeble effort of theirs to be unique, to simply be their own self. It sniggers enough to deafen the little voice in them, wishing meekly to be heard.

Words. 

I have been in love with them for as long as I can remember and yet I push them away too often. To me, they are a treasure trove I have been lucky to discover. I do not want to lose the magic in them, the fulfillment that gushes through me when I indulge in them, the zone I slip into as it happens...no, I want to cherish it. But I'm afraid of losing their meaning, of having them thrown about in abundance with no essence, like a body without a soul, existing but not quite, just in forgotten fleeting moments. 

So I put them aside with a promise to return the next time the winds brushed past me, luring me back into the place I love most, deep inside my own mind. My safe space where I am loved, appreciated, and forgiven for all that I am not but perhaps should have been. A space where I feel beautiful inside out, even if transient. 

In their presence, I am still special, unlike the outer world where we all are but a speck of dust in the cosmos. In that mighty universe, what could this little conscious mind create that hasn't already been done? What point does it serve? What meaning will it bring?  Why step out and be another drop in the ocean when I can be a fountain in here, magnificent in my own little universe.

Vemödalen.

What an oddly beautiful word, to be able to capture a feeling so widely shared. Maybe it is true, that there is nothing novel left to be done in this world. Or maybe there is and we're just made to believe otherwise. It is so often that we think of our worth with respect to the world. If we were to put the world's eye out of the equation, we'd be left with our own choices, what we gain from our actions, and what our individual journey turns out to be. Perhaps it is a selfish way of looking at things, but there is a fine line between selfishness and self-love, one that I draw and re-draw. I am still learning. This is a part of my experience no one can have a hold over. 

This is my journey. It doesn't matter if something I do has already been done. What matters is that I haven't, that I'm doing it now and reveling in the novelty it gives me. 

I revel in the joy that words give me. 

Words.

Such is the power that they impart. They shape for me a meaning to my existence. They give me life. They calm me. And they remind me of all that is worth living for.

Here's hoping I hold on to them more this year.

Here's hoping you hold on to yours too, the cherished yet forgotten.

Happy 2022, folks.

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