dynamite and dams

river

I was driving this morning and a song came on the radio that made me think of a really happy time.  A time when I felt full and rich and peaceful.  And I began to think about how hard I tried to keep that status quo.  All my life I have tried to first have those good times, the times in life when you feel safe and comfortable and peaceful, and then I fight to keep things there.  And every time.  Every time.  They begin to go bad.  Almost immediately.  And I think it’s because I forget that life is a flow.  And when it gets blocked, restricted or contained, it can’t continue.  In the past I have been the one to build the very dam.  And for life to breathe, to flow, it can eek through for a while but eventually has to burst through with force.  Because life… will find a way.  To live.  Maybe this last crisis happened because the changes I was trying to make were still within the same confines.  Still backed up behind the dam, and that’s how I’m going to see it.  Try to see it.  Dynamite was necessary to blow that dam to hell.  So life could flow again.  Granted, the explosion took some of my limbs, possibly some hearing, my fault for standing too close, but I think the vital stuff will heal.  May even be renewed.

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