Above most ideals in the world, I value gratefulness. The way I figure it, it seems to me like an attitude of gratefulness could solve most of anyone’s problems…because for most problems, we’ll find we truly have the resources to fix them if we’re either a)observant enough to notice or b)brave enough to be willing to ask for help. There is no darkness without the light, even so there is no problem that exists without a solution. I don’t truly believe that any of us are ever in any position we are not ready for, at least not in the ways that truly matter. Some of those invisible traits only measurable by our own perceived limitations…do you get where I’m going with this?
It’s hard for me to write because at some point, I think, my intense desire for understanding led me to develop an awareness of my imperfections that exceeded my actual spiritual growth…I might have fucked up here, because now quite to the amusement of the gods I now have less patience with myself than ever before. I am not a victim of my own intellectual greed, but I do get called an asshole every now and then…perhaps less than actually appropriate. Again, I follow the spirit of gratefulness.
Imposter. Hypocrite. Poser. Liar. Fake. Insignificant? That’s a good one. With all these thoughts and names I call myself, it’s honestly a wonder I get anything done at all. Yet, for the first time in years I find myself busy with the work of my own hands, this love I’ve spent time, and tears, and blood for…and to this point I only consider myself far enough out of the dirt to see the fruits still far beyond me, and it drives me mad. Surely you Skywalkers are not as hungry as I! For all my lamenting, I am condemned by my own desire. My gods, it seems, allow just heights enough to make for an audible breaking at its forfeiture. When will I stop trying to convince you I’m perfect?
I suppose when one loves the world, he becomes accountable to that world. For what is love without accountability? A clanging cymbal, an annoyance, a virtue-signaling waste of breath and the hollow shell from where it came. I know there is a never-ending expanse of learning ahead of me, one day I will learn. One day soon, I swear it, I will learn…how to do this right. This metamorphosis of thought I’m going through feels now like a constrictive cocoon. Yet, I’m grateful for having the resources I have to build it. My only desire now is to find the strength of mind to break out. Does the moth itself have to believe the change he cannot see is happening, for a being to have never known flight to suddenly and fearlessly claim the skies? Or is it more important, perhaps, to ignore the fact that even after coming so far, he finds himself in a place knowing nothing? If you could know the nature of the universe and of it’s expansion, is it a pushing or a pulling?
I only am sure of this: gratefulness is better than any kind of sorrow.
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