there’s something enviable about the people who can detach and dissassociate themselves from their imprint on this earth as though they were taking a free vacation. i only know one of those kinds of people, and i’m lenient to believe that he has a unique and exclusive understanding of what it means to feel happiness due to his ability to discern from what matters and what doesn’t. what i mean is, this guy could look at his 70 thousand dollar, freshly wrecked vehicle and acknowledge the situation’s overall shittyness but through the scope of someone who gracefully admits that these misshaps are merely the process of living an unpredictable, exciting life.
i can’t help but find myself unjustifiably angry with god for giving me eager hands, but no apparent opportunity to excersize them on. i can’t help but find myself anxiety filled over stories that haven’t even started or ended yet, my lust for money, my bad hair day and the death of friends. and when these fleeting thoughts become embedded fears, immediate blind rage sets in and there becomes no room for happiness. i suppose this is why hindsight has always been so important to me - only days or even years after these ailments do i realize that they didn’t matter in the large scheme of things.
i’ve developed a terrible attitude: that i’m somehow entitled to a certain and brief amount of seeking before i find what it is i am looking for. but when i really analyze that, it really only communicates a misstrust between myself and my maker. i’m writing this now so that i remember. and i hope that if you’e reading and you need this, that it resonates and feeds your soul the way that blood does.
god is love.
and love doesn’t pose, doesn’t pause - it does. even in the quiet and still.