Franz Kafka is my copilot

What good is a family that cannot come together in crisis? Is there any emotional profit from believing in an eternity spent with anyone who refuses to change, and cannot open up their heart and mind to unconditional love and personal growth? If we carry with us into the next life our personalities, thoughts, knowledge, and attitudes, is there any real chance at reaching this blissful and eternal happiness to which we lay claim? As we sit on our respective pews each Sunday, fighting to stay awake during the less than inspiring discourses, each one filled with more cliche and misguided opinions than the last, does any one of us feel like jumping up and shouting a joyful Hallelujah? In our greatest moments of spiritual survival, as we ride roughshod over the blackened remains of temptation, fear, and filth, do we look back to check for innocents in the wake of our self-righteous destruction? Do we listen for the sound of hearts beating in the chests of our supposed enemies, the ones we face each day when we walk out the front doors of our hallowed homes and into the dark and dreary world? Are we truly surrounded by evil on all sides, tempted by those we work with, and threatened by the choices made by people we dare not interact with? Do we, the self-appointed mighty live in such fear?

Rewind my clock. Take me back to March 24th, 2009. I felt differently about so much, including all of the above. But it has been a year out of Kafka, and I have undergone a metamorphosis. Still, after so much change I remain flawed, but I revel in it because to be flawed means that there is the possibility of change still living within me. To stop changing would be death, though not in the physical sense, because to shed this life is in itself just a gateway to more change. No, to stop changing would be an emotional, spiritual death, and I fear that more than anything else. To end the passionate tide that ebbs and flows within me would put an end who I am, and I am starting to like who I am. 


I am not yet close to figuring it out, and so a daily choice is mine for the making; move ahead and be, or stop where I am and end.


I am so damn tired tonight; I wonder what I will choose tomorrow?