Although I still consider myself a writer, I’m completely out of words.
It’s been this way for a few years already.
And no, it’s not that I have writer’s block. There just isn’t anything worth saying anymore.
I bring this up today because it’s my dad’s birthday. He would have been eighty if he didn’t brutally die from a brain tumor. And I would have liked to put down a few words about it but as I said, there aren’t any left.
It’s like I’m sitting next to a stream of water running down a mountainside. Watching leaves and pebbles float by. Thinking, I am those leaves. I am those pebbles. I am this river.
Normally, right at this point, I would say, once again, that I’m not posting about my dad for social media sympathy or “likes”, but I’m doing it for anyone who might need to hear, whether they know it or not, that time is passing, as Dylan would say, like a jet plane. And we need catch up with our loved ones while we still can. And I would probably add a little bit about kindness too. But how many more times can I say the same thing about the only thing worth saying a thing about?
So, I’ll just continue to sit here by the side of this stream. Missing my dad a lot. But no more than yesterday. And no less than the day before.
Waiting for the day Love transcends ego. Because life, obviously, will just continue to be an endless circle of violence, inner and outer, until that day comes.
These words, and the thoughts behind them, are intended with love and with gratitude for the goodness in the world and for the goodness which will prevail.