12:28. I find I still struggle to exist. A tiny flame grows, I fan it, then I burn too hot, then mother nature dampens it with fresh rain; soon the tiniest breeze threatens to extinguish it. I cup my hands around the tiny warmth remaining.
If I could only let go of attachment to my own creative flame, and instead spend all my time instead offering energy and gratitude to the Tree. Think how free I’d be.
But would the Tree benefit from the value of my offering, if it could not see me kindle creative fire like its own, in me?
And how long could I exist, without my own inner light?
Not long enough to stave away some treeless night.
11 months, 18 days of sustained sobriety. I know I have issues as a blogger, including sometimes suppressing my own blogs/posts, and/or not always communicating clearly. Thanks for putting up with that. And thanks for all your own sharing and trying and failing and trying again, and/or for your random acts of kindness. You’ve helped me grow, slow as the growing may seem. 🌱