Another new year and I ask myself, does it really matter? Is a year beginning, or ending, really any different than a year simply being?
We humans like to mark things, make them ours, lay claim to them in some way, but the Way is long and more than winding. It is complicated by so many more things than minutes, or years. Those are human measurements.
I suspect the more ineffable measurements include acceptance, kindness, openness and vulnerability, and other things that create beauty, light, and good energy.
It feels very dangerous to open myself up to the experiences surrounding me and to do so with actual acceptance and true love is almost god-like, it is so difficult.
I am certainly very far away from god-like. Every year it becomes more and more apparent that I am a simple woman.
And I am pretty satisfied with that.
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