life has a funny, yet brutal way of bringing us back to the sore spots. sometimes, they’re so well masked we didn’t know they were still doing us harm, just beneath the surface of our process of clumsily clambering for understanding and self-realization.
the deepest part of us desires only for us to feel alive, and truly savoring every moment. when and as we drift from this calm center, the desperate measures abound, and superficial salves and bandages are rarely sufficient to stop the apparent loss of meaning and mindfulness, bleeding into the abyss of routine and preset rigmarole.
original presence calls across the din of the ordinary. it glazes our eyes at the predictable and plain – dressed up as celebrity and self-importance, bold headlines, conforming notions of the pedantic and trite, the ongoing missteps of passing generations, and the loudness of rampant hubris in the fading west.
we, as life, employ self-correcting methods, individually and collectively, to balance the boat, and right the rudder. thus, time is not a constant. in the immediate, we may hear or feel something that hurts; we see or experience minor or massive acts of violence.
do we reach for the familiar? react as expected? do we grab the moment by the throat and yell “wait a fucking second… what is this, now?” instantly, we step forward, in the power of recognition, awareness, broader, inclusive scope, or we trip and fall backward, utilizing the same old cynicism or indifference, drama and conditioning.
our bodies will hold out for only so long. our minds, maybe even less, unless we deliberately engage in the pulse of the world beyond our practiced defenses and instilled programs.
time, and time again, we will be given opportunities. look again. listen closer. be open. elevate.
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