Daily Archives: January 4, 2010

Dear, There’s a little death


This is a little death, which will give birth to a newness you’ve been waiting for.

I’m waiting on my next death.

You’re not self destructive.

Things are being held for you. You’re being held. You can’t see that now, or sense it, but its there.

All the pain, what you perceive as “mistakes,” are working toward building more of you, who you are and will be.

It’s good to feel failure or pain–even that is a joy–because growth requires it, structuring requires it.

The strength of voice requires silence. Moving-toward-othernnes sometimes requires stillness.

Perhaps longer periods of stillness are actually a faster moving-toward.

Assessment–though in the end futile–is, at the same time, necessary.

I say these things with a knowing I can’t explain–a rooted knowing that will not shake.

And yet, I don’t write because I presently know–that’s impossible.

Present-knowing is so false!

I know nothing, and that’s where anxiety blooms–the dread Kierkegaard loved as his own shadow-birth death,

and this is why, while writing these words to you, I at once know, and shake in fear in my own unknowing when it comes to my own life.

I can say– I am depressed, I fear it won’t lift. Or,

I am here, counting my regrets, afraid the Muse has abandoned me. Or I can cry

about trails in the Universal wood, wonder if I’m lost–

because from my limited space, vantage point aimed inward, the vision is blurred.

There’s a magnetic interference of sorts when we try and evaluate our own lives, selves–

the masks we exchange from moment to moment.

But for others, there’s a mesa where we can see clearly the rooted-truths of Universal gladness, Universal holdings.

I know you are held, and knowing this, a still small voice says that I am as well.

But we can’t fully believe our holding– that’s why we need others.

Independently, we need each other, for there’s a higher place others can stand to see our paths that we will never reach to perceive our many selves.

So, tell me more about your lack of inspiration and why words fail you at this moment.

They won’t always.

I say this with conviction as though I could tell myself the same.



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