It really came as no surprise that my mind once again tricked me into thinking the idealism I harbor was capable of overcompensating for the realism that exists.
There are times when I feel as if I am a spectator to my own life, and how odd a feeling to be routing from the bleachers…for myself. The parameters of human magnificence again I suppose. I'm that rat in the maze of legal blunders. Right turn; left turn then a circle-‘round, then *Bam*…I run smack-dab into a petition, or a summons, continuing litigation and most certainly, notice of charge for a $50 phone conversation that I don’t recall having.
Deep breath. (Did you know that there's an actual technique to proper breathing? Yeah, who knew? ) Apparently, I've been screwing up the breathing pattern and thereby, losing vital amounts of oxygen in the process. Guess that explains why some days go bye in a zinger and others are mellow atonement's of the exercise of inhale/exhale. Either way, there's purpose in them there walls and here I've been with my pick-ax, fumigating mask and galoshes, hoping that it'll all collapse before I do. Take another step toward the purpose of creating the life I see and have faith. That's where the context of it all lies.
Okay -- for the sake of life as I know it, I'll work on my breathing patterns and this exhausting exercise in futility. I'll be certain to say my prayers at the dinner table and before bed....and when I brush my teeth in the morning and at work....oh, and during my breaks, and when I'm weeding the garden and when I'm in the bathroom....
You get the point.
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