Sunday, February 8, 2015

The Point

The blank page is so bright.

There is a want inside of me. More of a need. A need that is gnawing and clawing away at my rib cage. The feelings are there. So many of them. But, the words are few. Patching pieces together. Searching for a way to weave the letters into words, the words into syllables, then the spaces and the punctuation together in a way that, first, makes sense and, second, says what I'm feeling. What's happening in my head.

Old patterns are hard to break. Re-programming sometimes feels like a numbness. You turn some of it off completely so there's room for reason, for awareness of thoughts. Turn the spicket on to a drip so you can see where the thoughts go. Then stop and ask why. Why? What is it that I really want in this moment?  Why am I feeling this way? Which way are my thoughts going? Towards an old path?

Change direction. New perspective. New path.

That dark hole, that hole still exists. It may always be something that I carry with me. I may, for the rest of my days, be climbing in and out of it. From that darkness a question is constantly whispered, "What is the point?"

What is the point?

The point is to live and love and give. The point is to make others smile. The point is to help others in this life. The point is to find happiness within. The point is to have a point in this life, in this world. The point is to make a difference.

To one or to many. Make a difference. Inspire good. Be the point.

That's the point. The point of all of this. The point of this life. The point of my life. 

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