When I am threatened… when my options
narrow themselves down to zip… nil… void… I fall back on primitive beliefs for
rescue. The adage that insists “there are no atheists in the foxhole” arises out
of such desperation. After that comes the kind of resignation that accepts the
will of God. It no longer matters what my philosophical or abstract theoretical theology
has defined of God and God's will in more pleasant times, I kneel and pray… I beg and plead… my hope
is far away and I cry out like a bleating lamb to the slaughter. This is where
I am in all humility… this is where I am closest to the Heart of Compassion
even though I might hate what is going down around me. Do the next right thing…
that is all… open my heart to compassion and let it bleed. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of
in our philosophy…” said the Bard. I have to leave it at that and be
grateful for the love that has been shown to me and the bitter pill I must
swallow at times to live life fully. Is the future so bleak that I give up or the past cumbersome enough for me to let go of it? Is the present moment so frightening that I can't live in it and be grateful? When the time comes I will know.
geo 5,377
Aside from that, my Bon Bon is going to have open heart surgery next Tuesday... fear... smashing doubt... crushing anticipation...
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