Learning to Trust Again (Learning to Write Again...)
Written on a sunny afternoon at 24A Connngham Road; the flat that was:
It's a strange journey isn't, this. This life? That begs the question as to what 'it is. I suppose that is what we are all wondering, all asking all searching for: the meaning. What is this all about anyway?
I've been angry, I've been upset, I've had a song I used to sing in my head "And I'm Alive/ And I'm alone/ And I've never wanted to be either of those". I've been upset that I was given life and, with that, responsibility; the power to choose. It seems a cruel thing, when you invariably only ever make the wrong choice. But is it really? Is it really cruel? Or is it really a gift, the most loving gift anyone could ever give? The power to choose. The ablitiy to decide what it is you want. I once heard, "Is forced love really love, or is it a dictatorship?" The power to choose denotes the power to make the wrong choice but is that the fault of the Giver? What choice is there if there is no wrong choice? There is no choice. But if there is the power to make the wrong choice, there must also be the power to make the right choice, and what miracles are contained therein?
When I saw only the bad, someone else saw only the good. Someone had faith where I had lost all. He is the light where I have only darkness. Where I have hate, he gives but purest love.
This is my prayer: That I open my heart to your love and ALL that comes with it.
Jaya Srila Gurudeva!