Troves and troves of writings...
To find. To sift. To sort.
A floppy disk... Floppy disks were never floppy.
A discovery in one of many was this-
Quack letter by Linda Oct. 22, 2001
The woman sat in front of her computer. Once again she pondered her fate. Was it fate or her own stupid choices that led her to this moment? What if there was peace on earth? What would that mean? What would it look like?
Conflict is a part of every day. Does peace mean that we all get our own way, all of the time? Since we all have different points of view, this could not be possible. Peace is not possible.
What would be the best plan in the universe? Offer something impossible to attain, that everyone wants, and then promise to deliver it.
Because people have not explored the fact that it is not possible, they keep trying to get it, like peace is a thing—because they want it, the person promising to deliver it can stay in business forever.
Peace is not possible outside the skin. We have turmoil trying to relegate the differences between what we want and what happens to us, or how life presents itself.
So I accept the fact of internal chaos and keep moving to the beat of the heart and the rhythm of the breath.
God made me. I am a creation.
Wouldn’t it stand to reason that my Creator has the right to set the rules I live by? Wouldn’t it make sense that I have a sense of wonder and awe about that intelligence and compassion that would offer me the opportunity to experience life? Wouldn’t it make sense that I would feel secure?
Couldn’t I assume that because I exist, I have value? Couldn’t I assume that if I have value, my Creator would not abandon me? Couldn’t I assume that the One that created me, has an interest in my progress?
Having said this. How do I make a connection between the gross ignorance of my “unknown” to the infinite capacity of the “One that Knows?”
What is the connection? What is the behavior? What is the appropriate way to express respect? Praying randomly? Giving money to a man-made and man-conceived religion, to be administered by the same type of clueless individuals as I am?
I must find a way to express my gratitude of being alive that is justifiable to me. A way that I know it goes from me to God. A man-made language that makes the words, "Thank you,” doesn’t do it. Squeak from my lips is so much less than significant. What can I do? How can I express what it means to me to take breath? I cannot. I am completely unable to express a squeak that minutely approaches enough.
So I accept that the wisdom and infinite pleasure to give, lies in the Creator, NOT the Creation. I accept that I live at the whim and creation of God. I accept that my life is His play and even if I think I don’t like the part I am playing at this moment, I am grateful.
I don’t want to be ungrateful. I want to be a speck that brings God pleasure.
What can I do? What can I do? There is no one that can advise me on this, because people I know do not ask such questions or go deeply into the core of caring. I don’t know why I am compelled to go there, but I do.
It is a strange existence to be bound by “how to,” instead of enjoying life as an expression of “thanks.”
The prayer is this,
"If you can help me God--do so.
If you care not to--don’t.
As far as I can tell—
I do exist.
I am blind and flail my hands in your face.
I am sorry, but this is how you made me and,
I am trying to do my best.”
Amen.
Love,
Linda
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