05.25.09
Life is this day, whether I want it to be or not. Life is this cloudy morning, these long and tiring meetings, this dusty city, these moments of desperation. This is life.
But is it all right to want a different kind of life? A life of a different name, a different place, a different color? What about the one I have? Why can't I find a moment of contentment in this particular life?
How is it that I'm always reaching for the Other--for what I think I want--and ending up with the same thing I had before? The same life, the same me, the same discontent?
1 comment:
Hi Heidi:
A lovely reflection. I see you reaching for the Other. May your hands and your Spirit make contact.
Ron
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