Two natures, one life…
The thing is, since a child, I was quite sensual. . . .far too curious than others in things they should not be. Not in a bad way. It was beautiful ways of thinking that flowered in my youth, and it has never overtaken me. These parts of me are my threads. It soothes me to think of, working its way at my nerves, and this part of me shall always stay and be.
But there was another side, clutching at my heart, and I couldn’t stand it knocking at the door of my mind. So much. . . .I guess I am laughing about it thinking back. But one day I chose to sit and listen, and that led me to mysticism. All that old philosophy I would read began to seem like a living book in motion in my life. I discovered compassion, a most beautiful thing, truly.
Ah, once upon a time I believed I had no true heart, besides a physical shell of the one that beats within. I drowned in a sense of profound sorrow. Until I was lifted. The fact I could feel the negative things meant I did have one. I find no conflict in my natures as long as I remain grounded yet with eyes piercing just a little of the veil. The idea of sharing that with another does not bother me. I used to be so unreachable. Always distance in my eyes. And now, I feel everything, and adorn my shell in color. And I can see all of your smiles, as well as the worries you hide, than my own pain.
I want to remain in and of the world, not out of it. If life is suffering, I will go on producing less of it. Like that psychopompic spirit, Mercury. There are philosophies that integrate the spiritual into life-organization, and there are others purely-focused on salvation and transcendentalism. We are never far from the beloved. Remain steadfast, all of you, on your journey. Don’t let anyone shame you for walking the path you do, or tell you, that you are lost, or a dreamer! Imagination is the key to a creative intelligence. The mess is in the order, and the order is in the mess. Find your way to make it work for you. Pour into it all that is in you. At every point and stroke, you are the manic painter of your aspirations, and the hand that shifts the mood of its colors.