Complete

It takes a whiff of cold, autumn air, a plate of hearty goat stew and beef tongue, and a whirlwind of fallen leaves to realize that there are less than two full months left of this year.

As the years go by, time seems to be on an endless downhill, unwilling and unable to apply brakes, mercilessly rolling, tumbling. At times out of control, at times

For reasons I cannot seem to verbalize, the change in the air sparks deep thoughts of life’s direction and purpose. Reflection is a powerful tool, shining light unto my innermost vulnerabilities and weaknesses.

Life at times seems like an endless one-way street, or a never-ending loop on a roller coaster track, or a high-speed train in full gear, aimed at no destination in particular.

Albeit dim, the light shining within asks the critical question, what it means to be complete. Some conclude that they are born complete – born of stature, wealth, and opportunities. Some conclude that they have earned their completeness – through education and financial gain.

Completeness means the lack of need. Want is there, it will always be. But need has been overcome, at least for some, through self-satisfaction and assurance. Outside of oneself, there is no need. No force other than oneself may interject, for there is no reason to do so. One is self-sustained, fulfilled, complete. One may think.

For those that feel the autumn air blowing right through a void in one’s innermost space, completeness is a yearning. For something more, something greater, above and beyond the status quo. The heart’s void, and the mind’s void, demands a greater presence to quench the otherwise unquenchable.

Blessed are those that are cognizant of such greater presence.

It’s as if one has had a death grip on a stress ball all these years, so tight one’s fingertips and knuckles have gone white. Control, one says, is power, ability, completeness. Total control within my grasp, within my own two hands. Trust oneself, you say, none other.

Letting go – a sensation that permeates through your hand, wrist, arm. It’s assigning control to something beyond one’s fingertips. For one does not trust oneself. Reflection has proven such unworthiness, an utter failure when one foolishly believed in self-contained completeness.

Perceive the unfathomable. What you see and what you hear is not always followed by a period. There is more, more that will lead to a narrow path, perhaps to completeness.

 

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