as we seek ways to relieve our discomforts, as we seek ways to not sit with our muddy waters, it is our ego that is stil in the drivers seat, is stil in control. Your mind fucking you over, steering you clear of what needs protecting. But you don’t really know if that is actually true, because you’ve never gone there. Really. We believe it needs protecting, as we consider ourselves hurt little children, and in some ways we are, hurt, little, children.
You learn to use tricks, low level magic, to try and avoid the unavoidable, as life keeps steering you back into the mud. The momentary sigh of relief, as you scrape and wash off the few specs of mud that got to you, while your life is already preparing the next preamble for your next mud-bath. The quick fix, the quicksilver life, the shallow dip in and shallow dip out, boasting our shallow victories.
Even without using it as a goal, but the youthful rejuvenation is waiting for you. As the mud clings to your skin, attaching to your dead particles, so they can be washed away, scrubbed and rinsed.
If you ever want to be reborn, don’t you first have to actually die…? Then die, first.
Who are you, that which you attach to, is it true, is it trully you?