In this age of seeking certainty which has been the first quarter/ third / whole? of what my life will be, I pray for newness, for a shattering of the old by a conviction to follow my calling originating in the unknown regions of consciousness, foreign to me.
The cleverest of humans must honor the un-owned, mysterious source from which genius springs, and in doing so, surrender their gift, or else spend a life grasping and clinging and when those gifts are INEVITABLY taken away, suffer the terror of being nothing.
Meanwhile the fool, aware of their “inferiority” all along, will dance w/ ease into the dusk of life “with the one hand waving free", their genius completed and fulfilled by an effortless resignation before the throne of creative energy, reveling in the joy of being all.
May I be the fool: heedless, unbounded. May I cease my wiseman’s endless divining of hidden purposes, prying beneath surfaces. This has been my prayer for so long, spoken aloud, or in-between watery eyes not knowing they were thirsty. And it must continue to be my prayer, every moment it seems, a continual letting go, letting be.