Oh, The Precious

The Blog Family. Perhaps just two as others do not want to be online anymore, at least for now. They are always welcome and there is always hope we will share words again. Hope we will create something permanent. How to bond with someone who deletes everything they create, that is the question. Fruit falls from a tree and to the tree it is gone, but fruit returns. We eat the fruit and to us it is gone, but then, more fruit grows and falls. The cycle of existence, non-existence, and back to existence again. Or is it Non-existence, existence, then back to non-existence again. Which is the permanent state? Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

In the comment I just left on the previous entry, I identified with impermanence as the reality and permanence as the illusion. I suppose that correlates with my perspective that alone is reality and sharing brings an illusion of not being alone Caring brings depths and emotion to the illusion. Spending time together builds references to support the illusion. Sharing on different sensory levels brings still more memory of more tangible evidence that the illusion is real. Is it? The answer to that question is exploring a definition for alone.

Illusion or not, the sharing, the caring, the belief that we are not alone is so precious to us humans. At least it is to me, but then, I am not like anyone I know. I am probably like others in this world of almost eight billion people, but I've yet to meet anyone like me. Then I read your words and feel like you are a lot like me in some essential ways. Sister of another mother, blog family.

I keep trying to share the experience, the precious...

still, alone.

Temporary

I read some time ago of someone's experience being a third culture kid or someone that moves to different places often. "I'm temporary in everyone's permanent existence."

No matter how exciting it is to discover new places, meeting new people, tasting new dishes or experiencing new cultures, I think I'm tired of being temporary. 

The settled feeling. 

Tinnitus waking you up at 3 am must be a sign that something is off. 

I want to be positive. I try to be thankful. I see my blessings. But can't help but feel the fog setting in once again. 

I don't want change. I used to smirk at those giving 30 years of their life to one job.. City.. Whatever that is. 

And now. 

I want to grow roots. 

I don't want to be a one season plant anymore. 

It gives you a fake sense of freedom where you are excused not to make a commitment to any one job or home or community.. But each time you leave, you realize it feels like a small death to a life you will never be able to have again. 

I'm tired of dying and resurrecting. 

Drama queen much? 

Possibly. 

But I get attached easily. 

To the place. 

To the tree. 

To the stroll in a park on a sunny autumn day. 

To the bakery lady. 

To you. 

And moving once again feels like walking in iron shoes. 

I can't let him see the tears.. He has enough on his plate. 

Will I ever learn to be satisfied and thankful for my current state? Is this why this lesson keeps on repeating itself? Because I flunked once again..