Still at peace.

A long, deep, and satisfying breath is our reward. It is afar off, but I can taste it’s ease. I smile waiting to feel it cool my soul.

Now, though, is sweating and worry. Did I do enough? Am I “doing” enough? Are we “enough?”

The answer is “no”, it is never enough, especially if you are asking if it is. It’s because you are not the “you” you will be until you’ve been through what you’ve been through. No, not enough. Not yet.

I’m at peace knowing I’m not ready. Ready is a trap. A trap for your soul, an easy, lazy trap. Living through it is your peace, the fight is your rest. Your test. Ready is a fiction. No one is ever ready.

Prepared, in soul? Maybe. But ready? Never. At peace? That we can do. Accepting that you are not ready, or finished, or done. I know I forgot something, screwed up, missed the point. That is the adventure. 

I smile thinking about what I’ve not prepared for. I bet my inadequacies can kill me. I hope that possibility exists. I don’t fear death, yet, and my peace might shatter against its future nearness, but for now, I’m at peace knowing that I’m not ready, nor will I be, in any meaningful way. I will just waltz right into “it”, what ever “it” is, with a comfort and ease born of completely unrealistic confidence that all will end, well, or otherwise, with me still at peace…I think.



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