SOC Writing _ 7.9.21

Alive

I am alive – like wondering where I am, and is the drive to return to normal – abnormal to the human spirit – to the desire of my soul. My whole life I have been instructed to ask, as Christ did: not my will but thy will be done. Such a letting go of self. The life that you think you have – that is somehow yours – isn’t not yours – is but a fragment of a whole hurtling love engulfing everything – pulling all and sundry towards aliveness - towards new life – where there is an opposite force of entropy – that I am well acquainted with. To stay in the love force – is a form of self - denial, self destruction – annihilation – the end of the past – the continuation of everything that has been building up for my whole life – the waters caught behind the banks of the flood gate – the flood gates that hold a torrent – my torrents of rage and grief and past lives (not so sure) – but anyway, anything I do is worthless, pointless unless I agree with love – unless I take a leaf from the page of my Christian teachings and die to become alive. The birds are always alive – flitting this way and that – the seagulls – I asked my son – where do they go to die? He thought the sea – but I feel that they live so fully in our sight – and then when spent – they are gone – like the poof of smoke our lives are – but we live them out so shabbily in plain sight – better to burn out than fade away – I know – It’s not as simple as this – but life is not a waiting game – stuck in the past or the future and struggling to be tethered to the place of now – to accept life on life’s terms – not a place where no one really exists - and back to you, sitting quietly in a corner thinking of me - how lovely – just for a little while as the rain beats on my anxious washing , I take the moment to return your gaze – lovingly, like the love you first spoke of.