A Different Kind of Fullness
I am an organic part of this happening called life. It is inescapable, I am one with it, a part of it, real and alive. All that I see around me and feel within me is life repeating itself in vast and wondrous variety. There is nothing but what is real, nothing but what is alive. There are no gaps, no breaks, no empty spots. When I recognize this, I fill up. It is that simple. If all is life, then empty is still alive, empty becomes full. Real also has wondrous variety. It is not walking away; rather, it is staying with it – whether the it be a feeling, a person or a moment in time. Real is being in my own skin and experiencing the moment. Being real is not leaving but staying with life.
I am willing to stay with it.
If it were possible to talk to the unborn, one could never explain to them how it feels to be alive, for life is washed in the speechless real.