Suzanne's sermon a Thursday before: "We keep trying to make these deals with the Universe. We say, I'm going to put in good work and be a good person and I am going to be rewarded. But it doesn't work that way. Instead you get something completely different, and you have to figure out what to do with it."
And then I wonder why my connections and appreciation of things happens in retrospect - kindred spirits misaligned in time and space. Craving for deeper, simultaneous connection I plead, "out beyond ideas of right or wrong, there's a field. I'll meet you there." (- Rumi)
The death in our community of a woman that I did not know causes me, a curious mind, to wonder idly about dying. It's an immature notion I realized, since I have the same mild interest in death as in say, visiting Columbia. They speculate it was suicide since the paper doesn't say and being she was young, healthy, and depressed. I'd never get away with such a thing (my mother would kill me, and for Fear of Missing Out) though definitely I'd consider faking my own death to get a break. Although for the first time in all the lives I've quit I've done nothing to be ashamed of, a place still gets small. You run across ex-boyfriends and burn your bridges at all the video rental stores, and I have always wanted to backpack Columbia.
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