We will never figure out everything we think we ought to know, nor should we never stop trying. This is the quest. This is the journey, and if you are on the treacherous path of growth, then it will be an anxious one. “Anxiety is the price of the ticket of life; intra-psychic depression is the byproduct of a refusal to climb aboard.” (Hollis)
For any of us who wander but are not lost…a song that calls to the deep within many a man who eases his pain by burning shoe leather and spending nights alone staring at the sky, wondering why.
Like a puppy that keeps straying off, my mind wanders terribly. I must chase it down again and again from the hinterlands of my worries and anxieties, my plans, regrets, hopes and intentions, and everything else that occupies my over-active monkey brain, even in my sleep.
Deep inside the crypt one finds three skeletons in repose, still clothed in their monks robes. Between them is a placard written in five languages. It reads: “What you are now, we used to be. What we are now, you will be.”
It’s as if all the lights on the tree have gone out save one ~ the brilliant angel at the top. From that one light I can still see the dim outline of our tree, still full, still alive, with its many decorations, the experiences of a lifetime, all still there, glowing like ghosts in the fading light.
