forgot how to do this. I got lost trying to move everything over from my old web site, and then just didn't want to be found.
Here I am.
FTP can be very frustrating, especially when changing files that already reside on a server out on the web, and in your own computer. The date and time becomes VERY important, and the remote system is always operating on a different time base than local. I have rewritten the same files about sixteen dozen times since starting the transition. I'm trying to get an automated method of uploading files to work, but I'm about to give up.
So, here I am.
Diversion works only so long. Eventually we die—or else we grow up. I have been dangling on the end of indecision's rope.. it seems like forever. It doesn't matter how I got into that position, or why. But it's high time I got my feet back on the ground.
This is a life, a string of miracles, moment after moment, and we are given—not called or compelled to do anything with them, just given—these many moments to live. It is possible to throw every single one of them away, even though there are a billion billion billion more of them in flight, on their way to us now. They will come no matter what, and we will meet them, or hide from them, whichever we choose, and for some of us in the habit of hiding, a billion moments pass like a lazy afternoon, and I have let pass ten thousand of those.
Do you not understand? Can you not hear lost amid these whinings, the sound of a truth you once knew well, and perhaps could even speak in your own voice? Maybe it can be sensed in the grasping and reaching of lips which hate to lose the last breath of a life they have loved so long. If you have not seen a great soul die—and I know you have—then just take my word for it; nothing will be lost in the end, but in the meantime many moments are left to pass, unloved. If I am allowed to do nothing more than this, it will be enough; to watch for each moment's approach, and have made preparations to greet it; to be awake at the coming of dawn and not sleep through the birthing of any moment; to not overlook the promise of any day, or let pass any preciousness unacknowledged; to do nothing but be exquisitely present to and honoring of endless life as here it does pass by.
And maybe write a little, too.
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