|2005-01-15 - 9:03 a.m.
i don't know what it is that makes life so scary. maybe just our attatchment to it. and suffering, some how, is entirely short-sighted. if we were truly fluid, even physical suffering would wash over us, wash through us. but achieving that fluidity takes a kind of faith that is bigger than the space in our skulls. bigger than the picture our heart wants to draw. bigger than the last word of the greatest story ever told. and we must take our little heads, our little hearts, our little hands, and leap accross the vine-strung, bamboo bridge of the only humanity we know in order to arrive at this place of faith. and from there, suspended in this place of belief, we can see how small everything really is. and villages wiped out by wavebreaks, and parents eaten by tumors, and the purest selves we want to be will be waiting somewhere to greet us when we are finally able to let go.