a crumb

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I find comfort in the fact that I still put my shoe on the wrong foot at first go. It reminds me that I don’t know everything.

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Someone else’s words

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“It’s like wearing gloves every time we touch something, and then, forgetting we chose to put them on, we complain that nothing feels quite real. Our challenge each day is not to get dressed to face the world but to unglove ourselves so that the doorknob feels cold and the car handle feels wet and the kiss goodbye feels like the lips of another being, soft and unrepeatable.”

Mark Knepo in The Book of Awakening

Hello, D e a t h .

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I’ve been thinking a lot about death. Maybe it’s because I’ve been confronted with it more in the last year than i ever remember being before.

Maybe it’s because I’m reaching that point in life when I find myself standing on the brink of mortality. As a child, I was fortunate enough to never have faced death, and as a teenager – like most of my friends – I felt invincible. While I never wanted to challenge the universe, I somehow I felt like this definitely wasn’t my Time.

Now, however, everything is changing. The more I encounter mortality, the more I discover my relationship with it, and I find it takes a lot of courage to kindle a strong one.

At this point, the mere mention of a friend lost – or worse – a parent lost, brings me to tears. A lump as big as a coconut rises in my throat, dense and heavy as lead. It’s all part of the process, I think. Life is relationships. Even with the abstract. There’s a connection I feel to and with the universe, and that includes a soul’s passage through life cycles.

I’m on the brink of my next cycle, and it’s a humbling one. As a heart breaks, so it rebuilds stronger. Here we go.

[ i n d i g o ]

How are you, and is God dead?

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It’s not destiny. There isn’t a PUPPET master up there, toying with the delicate balance of 7 billion human lives +however-many-billion more of nonhuman lives.

It’s energy. We are all energy. Energy attracts and repels, is neither created nor destroyed blah blah, etc. Energy is our makeup.

I’m not experiencing déjà vu on this doorstep because of some master getting his kicks for his illustrious plan. I’m not tingling with the magnetism of been-there-done-that because of capital-D-destiny or a glitch in the Matrix.
Each choice we make branches a different path – a parallel universe, and déjà vu is the shiver of familiarity when 2 or more of my Selves experience the exact same moment across universes.

We don’t find ourselves in these Moments Of Commonality – often surrounded by the same souls, hence the tingle – because it’s Destiny, or Planned, or Meant To Be. We all end up there because our energies attract. Because we jive. Our Selves, on an elemental level, vibrate at similar frequencies, and we pulled each other in as Close and Personal as it gets. We Connected, if only for a moment.

Déjà Vu is a shared experience along all the millions of versions of you, reminding you that, at your core, you are You, true, honest, and raw, and that You is whom you need to listen to.

Instinct. Energy. Magnetism. That’s what life is.

Trust it. Trust You.

The Struggle

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I now suddenly find myself with responsibilities that hold me back from hopping a flight to Dublin for $400. Like a cat. And a boss I like.

I guess that’s what being an adult is.

And the obsessive repetition of a inspiring YouTube travel video is what being a kid is….

Shari’s Nights

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Gone are the days that seep deeply into the night, turning again to day. Watching through a diner window as the dusk blackens to a twinkling sky until I glance up again from the glow of my laptop into the dawn on the horizon with little more than a weak yawn, still with enough energy for the entire day ahead of me. Those productive nights and wee-hour’d mornings are no more. Now, I trudge through foggy brain and heavy eyes, heaving sighs. Am I done yet? No. Possible sleep dwindles to but a nap, a blink in the ever-turning world.

What I wouldn’t give for a sliver of my old energy. A slice of that pie. And the friends who would keep me company.

Man, getting older sucks.

d o w n p o u r

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I fuel my inself to the brim with empowerment and whim by standing chest up and arms high beneath a torrential downpour, face lifted, eyes wide, peace signs blaring toward the Heavens. I let the rain drench the fabric on my limbs, plaster my curls to my face, streak my eyeliner down my cheeks, drip off my nose, lips, and chin. It seeps into my pores, floods my inner-workings, and charges my spirits. Beneath Father Sky, dousing me, embracing me, I am open. I am free.

[ i n d i g o ]