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I don’t want to hold the stories. Sometime they are there, sometimes they are not. When they are there it’s like they are all there is, when they are not there they don’t exist.

When I am so simple there is not a lot to say or do except respond to life. That can take me all over the place and nowhere at all. Don’t push, don’t seek, don’t chase. Just respond.

And yet, arising …

I want to push you, seek some thing from you. I want you to hold me, I want to feel you. And it’s ok, let it be. It’s all ok.

As the wanting subsides I miss it, I miss the way it pulses inside me and makes my nerves sing. I feel so alive when I want you like that. But it’s like a drug, the first hit wears off and I want more of you.

Can I be with both?

Allow the wanting to come and to go but don’t let it get in the driver ’s seat, don’t let it run the show.

Allow it to be a beautiful performance whirling through sun dappled streets in a riot of fans and feathers, sweat and sandalwood…. Leaving a fine fragrance in the air and ringing echoes in the emptiness.

Allow it, love it, let it go…

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