BRUNT

         So here we are. Afraid of what we don't control. At the same time excited and engaged in the story we're all living. All of us the same. All of us in this tale together. No one really ahead or behind the other. All fumbling through. Eyes as open as we can make them. Feelers out, like we knew there was something to feel. Eyes wide shut, Kubrick put it. So aptly and thus a helpful light on the befuddlement of Man.
         Was there ever a choice in our lives? A point in time when we said "this is what I want to do. This is what I believe in?"  Can anyone remember that day? Not so readily available as all the things we worry about. Not as johnny-on-the-spot as all that we feel guilty for. No, the elemental nature to help ourselves with love we are all born with is, in fact, the most elusive quality we have.
         I know that what we all desire is the freedom to do what we want. The freedom to be who and what we are. Yet I believe that what so often comes out when a stint of that freedom is found , is the most suffered and repressed versions of ourselves we can create.
         That taste of fully allowed being. un-tamed, un-fettered, un-abashed. One glimpse at a wide open tablet upon which to write, direct and star in our own movie of life, precipitates the onslaught of our most repressed characteristics. This poor being; To whom we owe our existence in part. To whom we may be greatful for experiencing what we deem unworthy. The one who after going there, heared us say we would never go there again. The poor soul who experienced everything we said was bad. Everything we vowed never to experience again. The one who experiences it every time we go back anyways. The one suffering our lies. Living our deceipt. To that one we owe our never ending gratitude, for if not for it who survives the intended lies we would cease to exist.
         The dark side does not exist but in our intentions. That which experiences both the pleasure and the pain, the fruit and its inevitable harvest, is the one most deserving the solice, peace , and respect of the god we pray to. There is no other than the bearer of the brunt of our mistakes, lies, and faults, more deserving of our mother and father's forgiveness. The janitor-soul who survives our destructive wake is the most deserving of salvation.