It can’t be said.  I seem to be getting that message.

How to end conflicting feelings?   Maybe,  not end them.  Just accept the reality that conflict and no conflict are two sides of one thing.

I cannot destroy something that is on the flip side of the thing I wish to keep.   Thankfully, nothing is ever destroyed, nor created – only realized.

I don’t think human beings destroy and create, though we are creative and destructive by nature.

How egotistical to think we are the destroyers and the creators.    This is the stuff of comic books – fantasy.

As I practice viewing my own life through a clear lens, not filtered through emotions, ideals, and beliefs, I see that I contain destruction and creativity in my very cells, literally.  

I am born with everything I need and will ever need to support my life.  It cannot be otherwise!

Following my instincts, I actively participate in the direction of my life.

Every day I put my left shoe on my left foot and my right shoe on my right foot.  My right shoe does not say, “hey, I want to be on the left.”  Nor my left say “I want to be on the right.”   No need to struggle.  Some things just are.

Things do not compete.  They exist.  There is no real conflict but that which is in the mind. 

Well, I am just saying………some things can’t be said.    🙂

There is something adorning me all the time, and I sometimes forget until I look in the mirror and see her.  Her name is Grace.  I see her when I see the brown eyes and the smile – or tears on the cheeks.  I hear her when I can find no silent place to sit.  I know her when I look upon those whom I love and remember those who have lost, and I visit her when I am most sad. 

When I am angry though, when I am angry!  She rushes to lay herself across my shoulders and she smells of lavender and jasmine, and she whispers to me that there is no one to blame. 

How natural it is for tides to turn, for forests to clear and trees to fall, for winds to rage and destroy, for darkness to fall, for superior human beings to fail, and for death to reign over life.  How natural for lesser human beings to single out an evil cause and someone to blame.

How natural, after millenia, after exhale and inhale, after long night, for light to come,  and for laughter and music to dance and fill spaces in the human heart. 

How natural for the world as we know it, to portray the imaginings of our own minds, and for grace to curve around our necks softly like feathers, forgive, and forever live.

It is often childish and unskilled behavior that keeps us from getting what we want,

not the lack of luck as we might like to think.

I am just a journalist,

storying my own trip down a path I call my life?

What is bursting in my chest, wanting to be said?

Is it words?

thoughts?

feelings?

Which comes first, second, third?

I know that action comes fourth.

In letting go of my self ish ness,

I can’t.  Because of the word “my”.

There is no need being met that does not include my need being met.

There is no hurt that is caused that does not include my being hurt.

So take yourself out and meet somebody’s need.

I don’t know what else to do. 

Do you?

Maybe the next question is “How?”

Out on the edge of change, where things are going by really fast – that is where I often hang.

The edge makes me pay attention.  I get less distracted there.

But besides that, it’s addicting, the adrenalin I guess, and other chemicals.  I can feel them.  I can pay close attention to the finest details when I am on the edge, because that is the  purpose of a person out there – to beware.  It’s for protection, but therein lie the most beautiful and delicate sensations.  They are simply delightful to pay attention to. 

So I guess life becomes wonderful and dangerous in the same moment, which I think of not so much as time but as space.  Some people like to skydive or scuba dive, or ski fast, or heave themselves into the air.  Not me – never.  Not even go fast in a car and barely will I get on an airplane.

But give me that edge of change, where constant shifts are giving the appearance that there is no solidity, where sustainablitiy means adaptation, where I have to dance to discover the ground under my moving feet.

Ha!

Americans seem to have a seriously deep aversion to death.

Death is a word.  To what experience does death refer?

I think death refers to the experience, not of the one who dies, but of the witnesses, those who experience loss.

Death is not regrettable, any more than an exhale is regrettable.

What if we re-named the experience we call death, re-birth?

Why not?

Who knows that death is not re-birth?

How can it be otherwise?

To accept death, give up attachment to life, and become ready to be re-born.

I live life not in fear of dying.  I hope I will not exhaust life’s resources in order to resist death, only to die anyway.

Today is a good day to die.  Therefore, it is a good day to live.

Breathe out.  Breathe in.  This is the miracle.

Breathe out.  Do not breathe in.  Then?