Now I don’t feel sad about this. Or morbid about it either.

I feel so deeply curious that sometimes the curiosity tips the scale into desperation. Then I am reminded that I may never know theeeee point or I may not find out until I die.

So then I back off. But what if I backed in? How can I go a little deeper? Deeper into the inquiry and let life be about discovering the many layers on the journey to “the point”.

I can’t pretend like I don’t scream this question in my head when I am suffering. Especially in grief of the loss of people who I love. I wonder … were you lonely? Were you scared?
Did you have Christmas dinners? Or were you alone?

The thought of it breaks me a little inside and I wonder … what is the point?
What is the point of being here if we are going to suffer? If we are going to die?
Why… what is it?

It feels overwhelming but it doesn’t feel depressing. It doesn’t feel helpless. It feels energized and it feels … what is the word for when something is really calling your attention? Consuming! It feels consuming.

Yes. And I am okay with that. And maybe I want to let it be a little more fun to let myself not know. And to let myself feel like I know what the point is for me. Just for me.
I don’t want to be fooled though. So we shall see.

What do I want more than anything? Well right now its to feel fully comfortable with being here in this body, on this Earth, in this life. To trust in the flow of my life and the unique timing of my path. To believe that there is a flow and that I’m not responsible for making it all happen.

Please. Eliminate desperation from my internal world.
Is please a desperate word?

Why does please feel desperate to me?
Why does trust feel dirty?
Why do I feel ashamed?
Do I ever write about the beautiful things in life?

Sure I do. But not right now because I write from my heart. And my heart is hurting. But the mind is really the source of “what is the point?”
And I have a feeling that the heart is “the point”.

Hmm… yes. I can live in that question, for now.