It’s days like this one when I allow myself the space to ask questions to myself, and come up with simple answers that are good enough, that I feel I might have a chance at pursuing happiness in life.
What is the root? Yes. Have you torn it from it’s plot? Yes. Pulled it by the hair and turned it to face you? Yes. Have you tickled the spot to convince it to move just enough that you can see it’s underbelly? Yes. What does it smell like? Yes. Does it have texture, or is it smooth and creamy? Yes.
When the flavor hit’s your heart, what does it feel like? No.
Is there a memory of it that will form a pattern? Yes. Can you itemize, categorize, objectify, and open your minds eye, to see it differently? Yes. The pattern you recognize, is it similar to any other degenerative pattern in your past or present? Yes. Is the pattern a reflection of something regenerative in ideology? Yes.
Does it have an intention that is unsullied by selfish agendas? No. Do I have this same intention? No. Is it changing? Yes. How can I? Yes. Have I already changed enough? No. Am I helping? Yes. Is this? Yes. What can I do to preserve what I thought before it happened? Yes.
In what way can I discover the root to the hope of it getting better? Yes. Which roots in my life can show me a healthy response? Yes. I should reunite with those on Saturday. Yes. What is safe for me to say? Yes. What is not safe for me to ask? Yes?