As, by aging, wisdom besets me absent volition, a realization unfolds from within… some interpersonal relationships perhaps born of transaction or convenience evolve to survive…
Wishing we have “ears to hear” above the din of judgmental self-talk
What we most long for when we are feeling alone is not incoming love from others, but instead is someone on whom to pour our outgoing love.
First-World nations have a garden where can dance the better angels of our nature.
“I’m not a racist. I have a lot of black friends. I work with a lot of black people.”
I think I’m here just to be alive. To see it. Hear it. Feel it. All of it. Even when it hurts.