Losing control is hard for us. We are an army of discontent, our weight unmanageable. Weighed down in that muck of self-doubt. In the all too familiar depths of despair, where sugary carbohydrates hold more sway than healthy resistance, we lauder in softheaded self-pity. Shitty and wasteful, tediously predictable, a transition, waiting for some liberating incentive, a 'wailing wall' of inspiration. Some logistical mental trick to bring us back into the game.
OK, so it isn't significant, in the greater scheme of things. Just complexity and turmoil born from simple choices done wrong. To lose weight, lean into the wind of self awareness and like yourself enough to be kind, patient, and pragmatic. It is that simple. Understand we, by nature, fail... and that is as it is.
Our little cross to carry, counterbalancing the first world fallout of seductive second choices. We languish in our luxury, all too aware of its discordance with righteous responsibility. Being good, truly full-conscious activism, is both impractical and fully necessary... So we bite off small bits and chew slow, letting grace supersede our blatant stupidity.
Growing out from our greed with better choices, we learn to be lean, resisting the blanket cover of whipping post waddling. Losing our schemes of self-justification, allowing us to love without poisoning the well with short-lived satisfactions. We are simple creatures, in need of simpler solutions, like break-fasting, slow walking, children laughing. We are seeing-sunrising, moon glowing, grass growing simpletons. Smiling softly, we submit to possibility.
There is no conclusion, only emphatic postulating to a persistent inner voice. Hush friend, your tummy talks of a lifetime of turmoil, let it rest a bit, by feeding us with nothing more than emptiness. Be kind and let it sit. Let life be free enough to settle and then sleep on soft pillows of content.
Amen to 2016.