Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Monday, March 25, 2013
Time
How time passes when we aren't looking, or even when we are.
Blink and a day passes. Blink and a year passes. Blink, and our life passes.
How to hold on, when time slip through our fingers like microscopic sand?
To finally comprehend: we are drops in the ocean, merging, submerging, and one wave will always over-wash another.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Attention is love. A tiny dollop of non-pressuring, unconditional love that we rarely get once we are no longer little children. Some people never got it even when they were little children.
As we grow up, we come to believe that that kind of love is no longer possible. We fall into entrancement trying to get it, make up movie scripts in our minds, making bargains with "God" or "Fate" that if we do xyz, we will be loved again. It doesn't really work, of course, and the "love" that we get in these cases isn't real, because it came with conditions attached. And, somewhere deep down, we know this, and it makes us anxious and fall even deeper into entrancement.
This is the human condition.
So, since we are all living out these hidden anxieties, secretly yearning for love, we often don't pay enough attention to each other. We talk, but at cross purposes. We interact, but who are we interacting with? The person before us, or the fears and doubts in our own heads?
If you think about this, perhaps you'll come to realize: everyone could do with a bit of real attention, that expects nothing, that only wants to know without judgment and to hear. You're helping them by giving them a tiny bit of unconditional love. So long as you give no more than what you can easily afford, it's a step closer to becoming your true self.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Outcome.

6 of Swords.
Another night, another ship, and after some swift entanglement, we pass the other by.
There have been too many nights, too many ships, too many moonless darkness unleaven by stars. Mine is a but a fragile skiff, adrift in the breeze. I roil to the slightest turbulence, the merest wave; I am in constant fear of capsizing.
And come the others, hulking liners, pulling me into their wake, unwilling. I, who am happiest sailing my lonesome, can only close my eyes... and hang on.
O, if there are gods and they have mercy, they will grant me a space in the safe harbors. Else, let me loose upon the wild ocean, and watch me sail into the sky!
Saturday, June 25, 2011
She said.
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