Fighting the good fight

battle_scars_by_avengedjusty-d4o4qtv External forces create internal rife and the war rages inside between what is right and what is wanted.  It seems to go on for far too long, like most wars, with individual battles won or lost. I thought that in this particular war, the right was winning.  Hard fought, but winning nonetheless.  However, like the twist in a tale or the flick of the hand of fate, the opposition jerked around and pulled me into the foray as I was leaving the field.

And I am tired of this fight.  Truly, I want to just throw a damp towel on it to douse the flames, turn off the light, close the kitchen door and pack off to somewhere infinitely more steady and calm.  What is there left to learn?  I believed I was living with the questions just fine.  Why does it insist on reigniting?

Perhaps it’s simply another downturn along the journey.  A dusty, hillside trail strewn with initialed stones, stones with phrases, words, places, names that I kick angrily over the edge and which magically reappear further down the path.  I have felt foolish and childish, angry and scornful.  These feelings are not me, I know that; they are insidious scabs that I keep picking at instead of allowing them heal to the scars they need become.

So, a little downtime was necessary, a snapshot of time to lick the old wounds.  But the war, I find, still goes around and around.

Meditation is necessary and I absolutely have to find the time to practice.  Searching for more truths. Investigation and discovery.  Honesty with the self.

But, I am so tired.

Surrender, I have just thought.  What would happen if I simply surrendered?  Fine…..Wanting wins the battle but when the hungry beast finds that there is nothing left, that what it wanted is no longer available, what happens then?  When the truth is completely and utterly accepted, will it fade away?  And quite how I surrender is a mystery to me.  I have written of acceptance in the past, of reliving and releasing and I had thought to be successful in doing so.  This feels like the final desperate grip of a creature who has absolutely nothing else when in fact, the opposite is so very true.

We have everything and in everything, all we need.

Stop the madness.  Stop the fighting.  Allow me to pry your taut, withered fingers from the past.

Everything will be fine and then some.

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4 thoughts on “Fighting the good fight

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