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Sunday, January 21, 2007

Life in a desolate place

Once upon a time, an old wise man told me that "to much sunshine makes a desert." Perplexed as I was at the time about this statement, life itself has unraveled the riddle; conflict is a good thing, once in awhile. Conflicting air pressures create storms, storms create water, and water is needed for growth. This concept is much easier to see in nature then it is to grasp with mental conflict. Several mental storms (i.e. how should I live my life?, am I a good person?, why do I feel so damn lonely?) have been heavy on my mind lately.

Weathering these storms can take a toll on one's overall outlook in life. This is where the internal conflict becomes much more then just a daily struggle for me. I feel like I am wrestling with huge choices that will dictate my life's outcome. Choices that are rooted down deep into my soul and effect my entire belief structure. These kind of things can not, and should not, be looked at lightly or decided on quickly. As I peel back the many layers involved with such life-defining choices, I began to get the notion (real or imagined) that I am living in a very desolate place. I wonder who else has ventured into this desolation seeking to understand perfect and complete love.

How can I taste the fruit from the tree of love when it is hidden in a world of hate? What path must I take, what mountain must I climb, what sea must I sail , what hate must I endure to get to such a perfect place as love? Why do I agonize over this quest of mine to search for such an elusive prize? Because for me, it is the key to solving so many other questions. Every layer I have peeled, every heartache I have felt, every conflict I have partaken in reveals the absence of love. It seems to me as if hatred has built its fortress around the well spring of love, forbidding anyone to even dare approach. We learn so easily to hate ourselves, as if it is the natural course for our lives. How can we grow love from the seed of hate? Bodies bled, bones broken, wills crushed, and souls sacrificed over this constant conflict; can I hate and still find love?

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