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Oh, rota fortunae — when we start to fall, we fall, and though the knowledge that there is an eventual upturn should help cheer us, it never really does.  

I’m feeling better.  I’m getting over myself.  Blah blah blah.  Time passes, and I feel less like a disconnected member of nothing and more like a piece of the everything.

We went hiking, a few weeks ago, in the mountains behind my apartment complex.  There are grave mounds sprinkled all over the hills, and every so often you stumble upon a clearing with stacks of rocks.  People have stacked the rocks together as wishes and prayers for loved ones.  We found a large clearing, one that we’d never seen before, at the top of a trail that spiraled steeply downward into the valley.  Someone had built an entire wall of prayer rocks.  The air and the ground vibrated, and I felt it — that glorious hopeful tugging in your heart that assures you that yes, there is something here, there is something bigger than yourself yet it is also you.

I’m getting better at feeling it.  I go places and I can feel the energy, if I allow myself to be open and receptive.  I’m working on being receptive.  I’m working on allowing.  

I just need to try and stop getting distracted with the petty problems of my post-adolescent ego.   

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