48

I used to write. I used to write a lot. It was a sane way to discard the insane brain. I don’t get a chance to do that much anymore. It makes me sad on a level understood only by the angels and demons who reside in the soul space deep within. In the absence of this priceless personal remedy, I have been taught much about myself. Most of what I’ve learned, all the happiness, love, light and Zen, can easily be thrown out the window before my morning cup of coffee. Clearly I will not achieve Enlightenment in this lifetime! Seriously—to truly know ones self is an actualization many will never realize. I’m not sure many know that they’re supposed to. At 48 I understand and I’m still breathing, so on I go...still the soul, quiet the mind. Draw nearer to God, and He will draw nearer to you. Despite everything, I am grateful to be right where I am today. Still learning.

Peace