Life Soup


Who will I be when I stop measuring me against others? Who will I be when I stop feeling like I'm swimming in an ocean of every year of my life? At 43 there is no yesterday, just a soup of my lifetime. People and stories and stops and starts floating all about me.


It is responsible, I know, to only look at the ones closest to me, the ones who call themselves "Today", "Now", "Here", and "Mine". But I can see them all behind you, swirling behind you, memories as clear as day. 43 years of TODAY is one big vat of life soup.


They say that trauma can do this to a person. It can affect one's ability to distinguish the past from the present from the future in any meaningful way.


It is all always happening.


It is all always accessible.


It is all always just within reach.


A mirage.


Shadows with figures that must be close - so I chase them.


Yesterdays, chasing them.


I must practice.


Traumatized brains in theTriune Brain Theory, the reptilian and mammalian brains float in a mix of always-ness. There is no past or present. Just experiences lurking around every corner. Accessible. Frightening.


No distinction, no chapter titles, not paragraph indents, no punctuation. A sea of words that build a story it seems impossible to get in front of.


So I invite God in.



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