It's been such a long time since I last blogged.
Well, I decided moments ago that one month is long enough a time to have not been blogging.
So here I am, at it again.

Things have been so different.
If anything, I wasn't for the want of blog-worthy posts, but for the time to blog about them.

I'm confronted by the idea that the past owes me its continued existence.
That the comfort and ease, rudely taken away wth the simple passage of time should naturally incur my indignation.
That every failure should be greeted with the blame that I have been displaced from my past.
That I am still adapting, still getting use to things...

And yet I know better.
The truth, rude and raw,
is that the past can not and will not hide me from my present inadequacies.
That my life will not be determined by a single failure, nor a solidary success.

What little past rights I can lay claim to will scarcely hold, because what matters is the now.
If there is to be a moment of maturity, it will be when I grasp the crude reality of things, and embrace my responsibility in its unfolding.

If there is a stage at which an individual life becomes truly adult, it must be when one grasps the irony in its unfolding and accepts responsibility for a life lived in the midst of such paradox.

And perhaps most tragically, time will not wait.
There will be a day we jerk awake from our labour's slumber.
So what?
More primarily, when will that happen?

I worry everyday, that when it finally comes, it'll be too little too late.

There are simply no answers to some of the great pressing questions. You continue to live them out, making your life a worthy expression of a leaning into the light