So you see it will have to be
like this now. Living is a dance, where your moves decide your future position.
But this is not to be confused with the misconceived conception that order
rules. We create this sensation to keep panic at bay. We will do many things to
avoid looking this in the eyes. We might not like what we will find. As usual
the path of least resistance beams ahead, inviting as the quick fix we long
for. There are times when the dancing commands our full attention. These are
times of relaxation, as they block out the sun. The sun is a disk of
unfathomable energy piercing most defenses. We will yield in its presence, and
that is in order. Fortunately for us we are seldom called upon to commit
ourselves to this degree. This is what the story of Abraham is all about. And
this is something we have known, but either forgotten or denied. For we will
take another step forward. The movement creates its own moment. And in the end
we will die, obviously. This might not be the marker we have set it out to be.
I am increasingly vague about that. It seems new things are emerging now. And
they may be decoys or grains of truth. So, there is chaos, and the absolutes
are not playing ball. Tough luck, deal with it. This might not change all that
much, come to think of it. IT settles certain long running disputes, but
simultaneously leaves the door open to new avenues needy of further
investigation. This polly jean is humming into my ear, and I see wisdom there.
Because I am human I will connect the dots. And where are none I will weave
them. I think that is a strategy for survival. Like sharks we need to keep
moving. Movement is pleasure, and it is also easy. But what when I get tired,
and want to run no more? Is that to equal with death? I think not, that is a
simplification. And while basically simple to the level of bonehead we are
there because of the very complex. There seem to be little or no paradox in
this, shed your conceptions of dualism, open your eyes.
Looking out the window. It looks gray. After a lot of hours, the family comes home, one by one. As they left, I lay in bed. When they get home, I'm in bed. They look a little longingly at my pillows, warm quilts, piles of magazines and books. Maybe they're thinking they'd like to swap with me. I'd love to switch. Updating my status on FB, getting some comments pretty quickly. People who feel sorry, and who tell of their own accident stories. I've been through that before. When an acquaintance, friend or relative dies, I often hear my friends talk about their own experiences of death. I used to get a little confused by that. I wondered why it felt so important to compare accidents. Or even compete a little in them. Now, with window views of slowly approaching days, I'm struck by another thought. Maybe it's their way of understanding and dealing with difficult things. To relate it to themselves, and their own lives. Perhaps, therefore, sometimes it is easier
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