Parabola

It's reasonable. But it's not logical.

It's emotional. But it's not spiritual.

It's nothing. But it's not everything.

I am a guzzler. I am a puzzler.

There is nothing to be taken over. There is often a hostile takeover.

Small people. Even smaller people.

It's not fair. What is fair?

Don't proselytize. Don't garner.

What good is good? What good isn't good?

You can't expect what you can't expect.

It's all fodder.

You shan't look at a word and think, that is what I mean.

They will always fall that much short.

Promises, promises.

Words are not perfectly circular. They run into walls and angles.

We think we can mold them into our realest ideas. They are not beauty itself.

Don't ask, don't tell.

Maybe if I was in legislation I would know this already. I would keep running into things.

Mom used words. Words.

So we invented God. God can be what we cannot - perfect.

Hi God.

It isn't important what we say about God.

It wasn't important what we said about multiple Gods.

It isn't important what we say about our particular God.

It's like logic. It's not perfect. It's our best hope.

Kindness.

I have ethics.

I'm all wrapped up, like a Twinkie.

I'm some kind of formula.

There's a formula that will explain things.

But..

But..

It's like poetry.

It's like art.

You do it.

But you don't expect to have a bridge built when you're done.

But somehow it means something.

Sounds of a cello.

It's not about work.

What did I do yesterday?

I tried to explain it to someone*.

We do it because we do it.

What else is better than that?

What is therapy? Is it solving all your problems? Or being in a place where whatever problems you have can seek daylight? And then you think you think you can attribute the therapy to the solving. Talk therapy. Interesting juxtaposition. Chat therapy.

The thought of OA meetings still give me comfort. I probably don't acknowledge their theistic overtones.

Oh, well. I can do things. I can exist. It's an interesting journey.

It's hard to say.

It's hard to do.

It's hard to be.

I will be. I will do. I will tarry forth. I will always try. I'm still here, aren't I?

For all intents and purposes.

I think I do things. I think I make choices.

But it is a questionable sort of thing.

I think I am speaking.

I think I am doing what I am doing.

It is so existential.

Existence is the only contact we can have with the divine.

Some would argue even that.

But then why is the cursor moving?

I must exist, on some level.

I just don't have any say in what my actions mean. Their significance is in doubt.

That's why I can name this blog nonsensically. It is all nonsense. That's the word I used at the church service, too. Nonsense. If I think there is something that's not nonsense, someone has already proven me wrong.