Leap Into The Present
The moments pass. The dream falters. A life of potential under-actualized is a devastating blow to future generations. For the preciousness and the beauty of possibility and the truth of creativity are fleeting. Meaning our dreams, come what may, seek a vessel fertile enough to leap into existence —it’s their nature and destiny in a waning world to do so.
So must we too, jump. Leap into the present.
Metaphysically speaking, a world and the words we sometimes dredge from these muddy waters are merely cyclical reverberations of our unresolved past. Until we sort out that past, unconscious or conscious patterning surfaces and the dream pales until the light of honest passion rises. Unless you mean them with a good heart, for a greater good and for all people, rhetorical words stunt humanity.
Thoughts and prayers for gun violence victims presumably ease sadness —yet sadness prevails. Too foolish we are, caught in our own personal wishes and demands, too shallow in many conversations albeit the pain for many from circumstance caused trauma caused them.
Missing the opportunity to heal our beloved community is the most sad of crimes.
Peace must be cultivated.
Years don’t serve us well either if they are but dust on tables and floorboards. Years, you see, are meant to be lived vibrant and in reciprocity. Years are like books we read and pass forward onto future generations.
The giver gives so the receiver upon accepting even one act of kindness can make a better life. That alone sends the givers soul back a thousand stars in gold.
Behold, we are to each other both miracle and problem to be solved.
Interconnected.
Sometimes, when we become our most desperate selves, we seek to understand life, we seek the spiritual, the poetic, the unconventional way. While all along these findings, had we given them true space in their own reality to voice their wisdom —would have asked of us only this. To slow down, to be civil, to find forgiveness, and to be kind and mindful of our interconnectedness.
Kind.
Could it be, the anger over our losses, our lost situations, our not so best health, our former job, our family, attacks on our way of living or our way of loving, might be why we mistakenly place blame on what we label “other?”
Perhaps as life throws down one hand we can see we still have another —with one palm upward in acceptance, the other extending outward with capacity we subsequently ask…how can I help?
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