“There’s cracks in everything; that’s how the light gets in.” — Leonard Cohen

I’d just like to warn you that this isn’t a poignant piece about plastering, or the illegal drug, or anything. No, this is an article about gaps. Life gaps. Physical gaps. Gaps that need not be minded.

I always remember one of the frequent walks my mum and I took along Penarth pier, when I must have been about three or four. My hand was wedged in my her’s, and I was determinedly

not

                                                                                     looking

                                                                                                                                                                      down.

The cracks between the planks of wood exposed the bubbling sea beneath, and it scared the bejeezus out of me. All that space. All that air between me and the scraggy beach. 

It consumed me, knowing that we were walking on bits of wood on stilts above “the actual sea”. (I couldn’t swim, and I was afraid of heights).

But it was, and continues to be, my favourite place in the world. Why’s that?

It’s because I don’t focus on the cracks anymore; I always look out to sea. I always look for the lighthouse on Flatholm, and I’m chill as a cucumber. I feel safer there than anywhere else, which you have to admit is ironic.

“But I am going to find out where all the cracks are. I’m going to try and find things that scare me and dance right over them.”

This year, I have no new year’s resolutions. I am not going to change because I have a different calendar on my wall. I am probably not going to give up custard creams or Babybels, and my Duolingo app is going to remain unused (maybe).

But I am going to find out where all the cracks are. I’m going to try and find things that scare me and dance right over them. I’m going to stick two fingers up to the anxiety disorder I was diagnosed with just before Christmas.

I am going to write the article I want to write but nobody wants to read. I am going to ask for things. I am going to figure out how my boiler works and how to make an omelette without it becoming scrambled eggs. I am going to try not to apologise to mannequins and I am going to stop stalling.

And I’m going to figure out where they all are, all these gaps that I’ve been avoiding recently, and go back to them one by one and find where the light is sneaking through. Because Cohen was right; it really is how all the good stuff gets in.

Related:

http://thesprout.co.uk/blog/2017/01/13/1-in-3-young-people-in-wales-dont-feel-in-control-of-their-life/

http://thesprout.co.uk/blog/2017/01/11/mystory-a-normal-day/

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