what makes me sad is sharing half-truths.
no matter what we say it seems we can’t wrap the whole truth of life into 1,000 words, let alone a half sentence.
no matter what we say we can’t express the mystery.
sometimes that makes me very happy. inexpressibly happy, even! to not be able to express the mystery of life’s constant inexpressibility. it’s a gift, really, a hidden gift, but a gift nonetheless.
sometimes we weep in frustration attempting to share what can’t be shared.
every time i type the word “i” it’s misunderstood, at least by myself.