There comes a time when living on doesn’t matter. Just be sure. There is never a time when love doesn’t matter. And that’s for sure. Hoo-nōs
It is a season about life and love. I love it. I feel it. I immerse.
There is still a sense of separation, of beings lacking connection—at least that kind of close connection I have always admired and have felt on occasion. When it is there, I feel value added. When it is not, I feel a sense of void, as though something that should be there, is not. Such a feeling is not without solid foundation.
I wonder about loss. Is it the same as not having what one needs or wants? Or is it a lament about change? Some change can feel like an anchor, some can feel like freedom. Needs I would define as necessary. Wants I would define as wonderful and can feel like the fine cloth of life instead of the rags of bare existence.
I suppose when what we need to live is not available, life might not be either. Do we need love to live? I don’t think so, but I’m also not a fan of bare existence.
It’s the Holiday season and I think and feel it’s about rising above bare existence. Life feels feeble otherwise. And love, ahh, love: We need it—I need it. Otherwise, living on seems hollow. So let’s reach out and not with beggar-hands. We might not find the one who can stay or we might not be the one who can stay, but we can still love. And that makes it a lot easier to be sure about living on.
But in the spirit of the season, may we find the one who can stay and with whom we can stay as well. That would be a fine, fine luxury. And there is nothing like being warm on a cold winter’s night. That’s more than a reason to live on, it’s a reason to live well.