I have wanted to write a book, as long as I remember holding a pen. A million words later, I wrote this book.
What is this life about? Is it a dream? I’m inclined to think life is very real, and beautiful, and profound. I think there is much that obscures that view. We are encouraged to think of ourselves as small, inconsequential. But if life is very real, and beautiful, and profound, being alive, how can I, you, all humans, all life, not be also?
If we are not divine beings, then I am mistaken. If I am not as fierce as the wild animals of this earth, in their willingness to live the life they live, who am I to blame but myself, if I am living a life that is defined by someone else, according to rules that do not truly resonate in my core? This life is more mysterious than anyone has led me to believe, more than any human truly knows. If I am not defining my life for myself, someone is defining it for me, and what do they know? They cannot know more about me than I can know, about myself, if I am willing to look at the world as it is, and accept nothing absolutely, and trust myself. How is this world to heal, of the ravages of the human toll, if I do not find healing in my core?
I believe in humanity. Can you believe in balance, wholeness and healing? I hope you like my book. And if you find any value in it for yourself, consider supporting me, to continue writing, to continue living this wondrous life, of which I am in love.
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