Today was one of those days, the ones that serve as a reminder that I am not and will not ever truly be a gorja. Not even if at this point in the game, I decided to give up on all the spiritual progress I have made. It was a reminder that even after we shuffle off of this mortal coil, its all a matter of shifting from one tangible foot to another.
This, this moment has been 30 years in the making, and you can’t convince me otherwise.
“I don’t like it. You mean…we have to be good all our lives???”
Two lives, completely unbeknownst of the other. Two hearts, two minds, two completely separate stories converge like the wild trails Robert Frost spoke of all those years ago, as if he had this underscored knowledge of what it meant to be living our own dialect of wild and suddenly the words spoken throughout space and time called out to one another and clenched the individual layers together.
I finally believe “The Road Not Taken” wasn’t to be taken at face value. It was meant to be a symbolic representation for different aspects of our life, because within every choice we make there is a path we don’t take; a “truth” or “reality” we opt out of.
I didn’t intend for this post to take this route, therefore I suppose that in this moment, you or I could say there was a road not taken and a direction I veered towards instead of swerving.
Ins and outs, ups and downs, but perhaps neither or either are here or there…
So, let’s get to the meat of the matter. The heart of the darkness, shall we?
Say….you are you and I am me, and we are both miniature versions of ourselves still marinating and ruminating in the smallest versions of ourselves that are yet to come. Say one day, before we can even fathom the existence of each other, we have the same yet seperate experience. Let’s go further to say that thirty years from now our experiences reconvene towards each other like two undercurrents in the ocean slamming together to form a giant groove of a wave in all of this madness.
Black IS white. Up IS down. Left IS right, and you and I are all, both, either and neither…
Oh my love, please don’t cry, please don’t be so wounded. Please understand that when we take our last breath, it’s just a terrifying phase. It’s the change in key to a song that we all know deep within our hearts, but gets caught in our throats when we try to hum the chorus. I’m scared too, but isn’t that the beauty in it? The fear? The lack of understanding?
The fear is the beauty. It’s a color made in vibrant strokes of red, black, blue, and gold. It’s that gets caught in our living throats as it transpires from this version of live to the next.
Isn’t it?
Emphatically Empathetic 