What Do I Really Want?

How is one to live a moral and compassionate existence when one is fully aware of the blood, the horror inherent in life, when one finds darkness not only in one's culture but within oneself?

If there is a stage at which my life becomes truly adult, it must be when I had grasped the irony in its unfolding and accepts responsibility for a life lived in the midst of such paradox.

One must live in the middle of contradiction, because if all contradiction were eliminated at once life would collapse. There are simply no answers to some of the great pressing questions. I continue to live them out, making my life a worthy expression of leaning into the light. I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next.

Delicious ambiguity.

The truth is that my finest moments are most likely to occur when I am feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by my discomfort, that I am likely to step out of my ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.