Anger and Lust, apparently, are the very worst vices one can deal with.
Soft words inflame Lust, soft words quiet anger.
That statement doesn’t make sense yet, it just sounds good.
I’ve spent a few days being angry and I’m tired.
Tired of the constant demand that I mean something, that I deserve something, that I am worth restitution.
It’s all so meaningless.
I don’t get paid for it, and always the result of anger is ugliness. Always.
I can feel my jowls extending, my eyebrows creasing, my heart hardening, my joy freezing.
Lust? Lust leaves me unfulfilled. I thought there was more than that. I want! I need! Eh?
I had a conversation today at meditation. Not really important…something about faith and giving and failing and carrying on.
Something about remembering God and being responsible for myself and for others.
Speaking softly into the night of the world…waiting for a pleasant reply.
I feel like an artist with a flute.