Thursday, December 17, 2009

Day One Hundred and Sixteen

At the end of today, I am forgetful and out of it again, although less agitated. I touch the stone gently and expect to be grounded quickly. I expect there to be a time limit. I expect it to happen here, now. How things are is not like that. When I crave for time and space to be different than what they are, I live in a dream.

I reach out for something different than what is too often; I return empty handed. And here I don't mean reaching out for what is real, what is loved, but that craving and grasping at events and things. Reaching out for love is necessary, for it is what is, should we wish to let it in.

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