My brain seems empty of late. I don’t feel greatly inspired, no grand need to write. This is one of those times that I need to push, to drive, descend into the depths of my being. I know that I need to spend more time within my fears, trying to calm this realm forever. Face them down, yes, but also chase them to their roots, and then pull them up. Only then can I truly be free, and then I can see that deep desire, that which is based upon love, and nothing more.
Fear is what drives me to weariness, what grabs at those roots and plays demented songs. This is what I loath about my life right now, the unbidden fears that gurgle up like swamp gas and belch their stink into my day. I really don’t need this. My fears are unrealistic and, dare I say, silly. They are out of balance. Fear is valuable, it provides guidance and works to keep us safe. When it is the primary driver, when reason, compassion and love are weakened, or, worse, obliterated, my life is worsened. Joy withers, droops, and risks death. Live without joy is only an empty husk, tree bark with no tree within. It is dead, and a death I wish for no one.
