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There’s never enough time. There is no time to lose. I know this, and have known this, but never truly grocked this until the last two years. Petty resentments , hurts, and demons know nothing of how fast time is. The last two years have shown me if you have something to say. Say it! don’t wait. If you have a hurt expose it, and try to heal it with the other person. Time slips by so fast and we always think we have time until it’s too late.
I miss my mother deeply today. This mixture of regret and introspection clings to me like thick molasses. I would give anything to say just two more words to her. All I can say is slay your demons before it’s too late, because there yours not theirs, and no one else can do it for you.
You grow where you are planted. Depending on the environment and and what you are fed greatly influences what you fruit. Being attached and enmeshed, it is hard to see that one is growing in the wrong soil. Not having what you need and unable to ask for it brings, about the wrong fruit (vipāka if you will.) Having grown up in this environment I would like to believe that I can identify when I am in this situation. Time and time again I am proven wrong. Each time though it gets quicker I am able to identify in a much more timely manner that I am in the wrong soil.
I Know now. I never saw it before, but I see it now. The fact is I am very much like her,( we react the same way to stress.) I have a peculiar insight into her mind. It only makes sense that our relationship for many years was one of adversity. I never gave her a chance really ,never tried to see things from her perspective. The pain and hurt from her actions were too close too new, even though it had been 20 years. Pain demands to be felt and seems to compound until it is. When not given the space and time for expression it festers, like a septic infection of the soul.
Death clears all scoreboards. In the light of never seeing someone again, or feeling them, most things we keep score about seem very small and insignificant. It’s hard to see when you are in it, and they are alive. The hurts and expectations of change are all there, and strong brimming and bubbling right at the surface of our awareness. If they would just do this, or say that. Why can’t they just….
Crawling out of my skin. So let the circus begin.
Plumes of hyper mediocrity bloom as if spring where upon us.
The problem with shiny is that it’s usually sharp. When I was a young boy around Christmas I became enamored with one of the glass ornaments on the tree. It was one of those thin glass red foiled ones. I ran up and grabbed it off the tree and in my excitement, and, zeal of the moment I grasped it very tightly. The sound was really what I remember most like thin ice cracking on a lake with that high pitch “Tink” sound. The next thing I noticed was the blood, pain, and, the shattered ornament in my hand. I have the scar to this day. It cut me deep in the fleshy part of my hand. The significance of the lesson was lost on me at that young age.