I’ve been blathering here for nearly half an hour, and nothing even remotely coherent has come forth.
I’m not stopped up. I’m just…quiet.
I do not have the time that I want. I do not have the freedom that I want. I do things I don’t care about. And, I’m progressing at a moderate pace in all directions that I care about — all the directions that, eighty years from now, I will feel sharp remorse for not pursuing; Michael, wife, book, health, in no particular order. Or the order changes with the time and need.
Something is most assuredly happening to me, or has happened. I am not normally this “clear”, in a strictly Scientologist sense of the word. Hrm.
As an aside, does anyone have a link to the practice of Australian aboriniginal hunting parties to take on four distinct roles, those being Warrior, Leader, Mystic, and Clown?
Crossposted from Epinepherine & Sophistry