Not living the unlived life.

It has been a week of contemplation for me. A lot of rambling thoughts. Questions with answers that pose more questions.

Somewhere in my mental meanderings I have come to some conclusions. Hopefully I can express them at least a little coherently here.

On the premise that we are born to die, I can only think of two biblical characters off hand who beat those odds. Assuming that perhaps the bible is perhaps a work of fiction or else completely misunderstood, it does not bode well. I am going to die like everybody else.

I have never been afraid of death until now, not death itself but rather the life I will live until I die. A life lived in fear, a life that becomes banal, uninteresting even to myself. For a few months I know I lost the plot completely and drew into myself. No More.

I will not live an unlived life.
I will not live in fear
of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days,
to allow my living to open me,
to make me less afraid,
more accessible;
to loosen my heart
until it becomes a wing,
a torch, a promise.
I choose to risk my significance,
to love
so that which came to me as seed
goes to the next as blossom,
and that which came to me as blossom,
goes on as fruit.

Dawna Markova

To not live an unlived live I realise is to require an absolute freedom, not bound by the shackles of my past, nor the shackles of a grafted on morality.

I would rather live a life guided by that which sits deep within me. An honest life that is true to me and true to those around me.

Accepting a freedom like that is both excitng and terrifying. How much do the points of reference on a moral compass shift, when reliant on purely ones sense of self and who one is?

I may add to this post still. Blogger will not let me save it in draft.