I try too hard to be free of holding on, to be that which is free, not holding, touching without grasping. But I am holding on.
I am also aging. I used to approach older age by ignoring it or contrasting myself with it. Now I worry about it as my memory and wakefulness go through obvious cycles of clarity and fog. Acceptance would be a monumental thing, and this attachment to life is a fine place to start building a monument. For a moment, I stop worrying about accepting or not accepting, stop knowing or not and just notice. I place the stone right where it belongs.
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