Aug. 30th, 2003

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It goes. Still, and always, it goes. How does it go, you ask?

It goes gently, right now.

We did some really hard relationship work not long ago, last night and this morning. I did some even harder work standing by and watching other people do their own relationship work. I feel closer to everyone for it.

These people in my life are very precious to me. I could rephrase that statement a time or fifty, I could back it up with examples or with abstract justification. None of it will get closer to the essence, I don't think.

I saw the REM concert last night. They didn't play this song, but:
And here is my appeal: I need a chance, a second chance, a third chance, a fourth chance, a word, a signal, a nod, a little breath, just to fool myself, catch myself, make it real...

I have it, you know. I think we all do, from each other. The web has give. The web has forgiveness.

On a slightly different note, it's harder for me to listen to a lot of songs lately. The lyrics are all possessive, stifling, limiting, vindictive, all holding onto pain as if it was a security blanket. It is a part of life, hurt is, but it seems like some sort of a badge in our society. It's a cherished thing.

That isn't, in and of itself, a bad thing. Joy seems to be much less cherished, though, let alone the wide range of emotion that tears a hole through you and leaves you open to the universe at large.

I'm tired, and I'm rambling. I'm back on the tightrope, though no doubt I'll fall off tonight, or tomorrow, or next week again. Repetitive duty, joy, service, ritual: I'll climb back on again too, and the time after that and each time after that. The walk goes on.

Be well.

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