The karmic theme of adulthood--resisting it and yet yearning to be a grownup--is really gaining steam these days. I've always been slow to mature: l learned late to drive, to ride a bike, to walk. In my own time, when ready, I have cut the crap and easily nailed the milestone...sometimes years after all my peers have demonstrated it to be possible.
So maybe this is coming too: a solid partnership with a happy and open-hearted fellow; a house with a columned porch and an oval window in the door; time to plant a tree and watch it grow; to keep koi until they reach a grand size, until we know one another by a sight that goes beyond sight.
No guarantees, though. I still haven't mastered parallel parking, and without a car of my own, I may never learn it. I carry torches well, although I don't think it something to brag about: this ardor that flags only because love means wanting someone to be peaceful, and I know we feel on another--
--So many stories, as if I have the damndest idea about what I do and what I am. As if the stories I tell myself are at all related to the apparent subject.
A couple days later, this:
When committed
there are no "deal breakers." One has a sense of purpose and is not stopped by fear.
I pray
let me see my best life in a dream
Then I will aim there.
I don't know if it happens that way, exactly. In searching for a sense of purpose, I suspect I'm straining to find something under my very nose. So it goes.
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