Sometimes We Come Back.

No corner of the story of our lives is exempt from oneness, no matter how excruciating or paradoxical. No matter how much it seems that "bad things" are happening to me, they are simply happening, to no one. Even if it seems I "come back" and claim and own the suffering, it is simply suffering, and claiming, and owning. And no matter how substantial and important the circumstances of my life seem, it is a timeless burst of aliveness, oneness seeing itself. There are so many ways to be, it seems; so many solutions to the problems in the series of events that make up a life; but there is always only this, perhaps with a vivid memory, perhaps with a strong feeling, or perhaps with little of either, just an awareness of surroundings. Even captivity within a prison of self is liberation. Nothing can escape, nothing is excluded. Thoughts of self-destruction are allowed, and so is tender self-care. So no matter what level of despair may be the case, or even what order of bliss, there is nothing amiss. There never is.