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Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Caught With My Pants Down

A disquieting thought visited me last night while I was in the bathroom with my defenses down — along with my pants. In my mind's eye I saw a quick flash of a bottomless pit producing some pretty scary echoes (Believe me it was much worse than it sounds.).

I bravely closed my eyes as the image melted away and I came face to face with a silent wall of nothingness — that place of pure potentiality, where both terror and love await conception. By thinking good thoughts I chose love, and chased the terrifying darkness away — mixing it with light until it became as blond as a cup of tea with milk.

It really is that simple. Each moment we must choose between love and fear. Love sets us upon a white stallion and transports us to a place of security and light, while fear arrests us with our pants down around our ankles and hauls us off to the dark wastelands of dread and despair.

The biggest epiphany I’ve had of late is the fact that happiness is a choice, and that thoughts are the doorway to both heaven and hell. Oh I knew this before — sort of, but it didn’t stop me from issuing my mind excessive hall passes, permitting it the mischievous liberty to create all sorts of chaos in my life. I underestimated the ability of thoughts to create concrete reality and overestimated my skills of discernment, for negativity often comes dressed in all manner of loveliness.

Be warned: Hall pass = hell pass. Period!

And why am I carrying this subject forward for your consideration? Because the older I get the more I have to say and the shorter the amount of time I have to say it in. If possible, I want to save you some trouble by sharing my lessons. So there it is.

I have to admit that the older I get the better the coffee tastes in the morning and the funnier the irony of life seems. I mean it’s evident that I’m going to die, we all will, only because of my age I’ll probably go a bit sooner than some of you, so what is there to really fear? Actually, I’ve had more belly laughs over the last three months than I’ve had in ten years. Perhaps it’s just me choosing to laugh instead of cry like when I choose happiness instead of fear. After all, I can hardly change what is, and I refuse to allow circumstances to defeat me.

Or maybe I finally get it — that a certain part of life is to be kept at arm’s length, viewed as a stage of progression, rather than a judgment against myself, lest I judge incorrectly, and carry the needless pain of my shortcomings on my back forever.

Our days fly by like the fanning pages of a novel creating a steady blur of events — our own unique stories. Life is indeed fleeting — a few short years measured against eternity’s looming stature, leaving us to figure out life’s great mysteries — the why of it all. And to leave our marks — the love we gave, that fertile seed amidst the junkyard of stuff that we’ve accumulated.

Do yourself a favor and choose happiness. Life is too precious to waste by living in fear.

Temple’s Spire
By: Leah Griffith
I thought I’d live a bigger life
of sweeping landscapes speeding by,
and neon wonders twinkling bright
against a starless urban sky.

An up-close view of all that is
the searching of the sea and more,
each grain of sand,
each polished shell,
whose chambers whisper to the shore.

I thought I climb a castle’s tower,
and punctuate through guarded clouds,
favored with the highest views,
through secret doors concealed from crowds.

All this I’d hoped and much much more,
for words cannot justice give,
the longings of a woman’s heart,
where limits part and hope begins.

Three score and ten—little more,
the gods have counted out our days,
pursued by dragons spewing fire,
and warmed by love’s contented blaze.

The best of years now lag behind,
when muscles answered each demand,
and clear minds snapped with fresh ideas,
ready with a perfect hand.

But now the needle’s eye has closed,
the hand unsteady takes its time,
The castle on the hill afar,
stands flawless in my shrouded mind.

And what remains
is mine to own,
the gold, the dross, the love, the dire;
the journey inward has outrun,
the swiftest feet to temple’s spire.