Category Archives: self-empowerment

Perhaps, why Romantic Love Fails

{a change of topic, though perhaps not so alien to my usual posts in meaning.  Think: self-empowerment… again or at least, serious choice.}

The title, then, is:  “Perhaps, why Romantic Love Fails”  and let’s be generous and add “most of the time, not always, not automatically.”  

Bracing myself here, this should, or could, bring “romantic love” experts out of the woodwork to offer their own experiences, or beliefs, to praise or castigate, and all of that is totally fine by me.

 “Oh love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me. I’ll be anybody you want me to be.” — Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters.

Imagine the amount of energy it takes to keep this up, to be “anything you want me to be” to someone, just for the fleeting sensual moment of feeling loved. Who then is really being loved when the ploy works? The pretender, the imitator, the parrot, the ghost: an elaborate illusion.  Not me, not the real me, just the character played by the actress. 

Any wonder romantic love so often fails?  

He isn’t loving me, he’s loving the pretence I serve him from morning ‘til night and the moment I can no longer sustain the illusion, he loses interest and perhaps rightfully, blames me for his disinterest.

“You’ve changed,” he’ll say. And right he is. Under the pressure of time and expectations, I gradually drop the illusion with which I ensnared him and I become myself, someone he’d never had a chance to get to know.

Perhaps if I hadn’t been so eager to “get him” and satisfy my longing by serving him with an illusion?

Perhaps if I had had the wisdom to look into the future to those times and event when I could see the illusion would be unsustainable; perhaps if I’d been courageous enough to show him who I really was, he may have loved me for myself, and we might have had something more than a staged performance…

Perhaps, and that’s the saddest realization of all, if he’d seen the real me he may have loved me for myself and never experienced disillusionment.  

Perhaps, like so many in my situation, I’ve been an idiot, turning myself out as a zip-lock bag of bait instead of the solid full meal deal I could have been; that I really was.

Perhaps, but perhaps is a lot like “if” and as Roger Whittaker sang, “No, I don’t believe in if anymore, if’s an illusion, if’s an illusion!”

So, I let the illusion go and live alone.  It’s not so bad once you get used to it and you have a few friends who don’t live in expectations of you pulling rabbits out of fancy hats.  Also, I must admit, love, however ephemeral, did have its compensations.  I had some really good times.  

I choose to remember the good loving times.  As to the separations, and I’ve known a few, the first was extremely bitter, then each one after that became easier, more natural, rather expected.  The thing about us is, we can get used to anything, even learning to enjoy experiences that at the outset appear unthinkable and disastrous.  

Looking back and thinking, if I were a few decades younger, would I fall in love again? Oh yes, definitely, for a great evening of being taken out to dinner, dancing, or the opera; for a night of pure heedless bliss with or without a full moon, and a sweet goodbye in the morning.  

Oh yes, I would fall in love… and fall in love… and fall in love… and make each fall redemptive.  In between, I would live alone in a world that is all mine. 

 

The Interpreter

[thoughts from   ~burning woman~   by Sha’Tara]

Who wants to read this, hear this, I was thinking.  Then again, does it matter?  I need to write these thoughts or they will remain undigested in my mind and slowly poison it.

I’ve noticed over the last few years that when I sit with another person, or a few people, as they speak and as I listen, my eyes wander off, their line of sight moving deliberately away from the speaker.  They will lock onto some object and hold it.  I know it’s not the object they are observing but rather desperately trying to see that which is within, or behind, the object: that which is invisible, yet very much there.  This focusing effect is so powerful that often I notice everybody else turned and staring in the same direction I am.  “Nothing, nothing, I’m just listening,” I’ll say, because they seem convinced I am looking at something they all should be able to see.  If I told them I was looking at a chair leg shadow, or an upside-down book spine on a shelf, they’d think I was simply bored with the conversation. 

What is it that attracts the eyes thus?  I think I know now, and I have a new “name” or description for that invisible visitor: the Interpreter. 

When people speak, they speak of their lives; of events within their world; of information they have garnered, usually very recently, from the news media, or social media and supplying their personal interpretations of such.  Of course they are not speaking just words as if one were reading a book, or listening to a lecture.  They are telling a story that exposes who they really are.  Do they want to be heard on such a deep level?  Usually not.

Much of what takes place here is subconscious.  Usually we only listen to the sounds the speaker makes: her words.  Either we do not want to, or we do not know how, to listen to the real story.  Perhaps, we are afraid of entering into a space that will demand some personal commitment when we move past the hearing part to the listening.  Or we are afraid of the power to “read minds” as some call it, of intrusion, and we think, what if I’m wrong?

That’s where the Interpreter comes in.  

I don’t know if everyone is accompanied by an Interpreter or whether it comes only to those who seek to interact with their world compassionately.  I suspect the latter.  I suspect that most conversations remain on the purely physical level, with hearers focusing on the speaker, her tone of voice, her facial expressions, the movement of her hands, or entire body.  And of course there is often the sexual aspect coming into it, as the speaker morphs into a sex object to some.  Though usually vehemently denied, especially by women, that is often one of the effects the speaker wishes to achieve.  That’s the physically-centered Earthian species and no Interpreter needed on this level.

The Interpreter which the eyes desperately desire to bring into focus so it can be made a part of the usual façade cannot be so tricked.  If a hearer truly seeks to become a Listener, the Interpreter will take her into a sort of trance where the speaker’s true motives for speaking are exposed.  The speaker’s story is then heard on two levels: the shallow, normal word level, and the speaker’s life level. 

To listen this way is socially risky and one needs to learn to remain quiet as this very personal information is digested.  You can’t respond to the deep “stuff” directly, so you learn to respond to the surface expressions, keeping the deeper awareness for a later time… or for never, using it only for your own edification. 

That too, I file into the expanding realm of self-empowerment.  Unless it can be knowingly used for healing, or comforting, no one needs to hear what I learned of a speaker from the Interpreter.  It can remain on the observer level. 

 

The Age of Dissolution; the Demise of the Powers

 [thoughts from   ~burning woman~   by Sha’Tara]

How I see it, as if it mattered (though it certainly matters to me) is that we have entered willy-nilly into the age of dissolution.  And what does that mean?

Think: dissolution means to end: termination, dissolving, dissipating.  What was is no longer.

You can’t tell me that everyone below the age of 70 has forgotten, or never known, what the word “virtuous” or “moral” means!  Even the young, as brainwashed by TV, computers and cell phones, the ubiquitous violence of cartoons and modern fantasies, not to mention public education, must retain an inkling of the presence of that light that makes a person a human being and not just a brain-dead consumer or an android.  Surely something remains?

But you would not think so by observation.  The observable, obvious “good” is few and far between in modern societies.  If one takes into account the general swing to right-winged politics, it puts a case-closed on the argument.  The Hardening of Society and the Rise of Cultures of Cruelty in Neo-Fascist America  by Henry Giroux, published in http://www.counterpunch.org/2017/03/17/91227/ engages this topic in 14 points.  Well worth the read, if you live in America, Canada… or any where else in the world!

Back to the topic: what is being dissolved?  Not “us,” as individuals, nor this world, as part of a solar system and greater universe, but a System that has driven itself off of its own rails.  Can you see that?  Sense that?

One could say, fine, why not just let the System, which is neither us, nor our world, crash itself on its own breakers?  Why not just stand back and watch the fireworks, regaining our virtuous and moral sense as human beings, and get ready to rebuild in cooperation and general consensus?

The problem with that is we have identified with that killer System for so long we have forgotten what it means to be human, and humane – or maybe we never quite did know how?  Maybe we heard the calls; we read the books and felt the yearning to be good people, and I mean “good” in the ultimate sense, yet never managed it “in real life” when confronted with the demands of our System?

What is that System that has robbed us of our humanity and turned us into dancing dried bones of desiccated selfishness?  That has subtly pushed us to value a gallon of gas or a toe ring above the value of a child?  What could have done that?  It’s not a complex or complicated or difficult force to understand, it just needs to be broken down into its individual parts and suddenly it stands out for anyone to see, because everyone will realize how it is shackled to this Hydra.

The System, as established long before man thought of itself as a society, much less a civilization:  Religion, the State and Money.  That’s it, that’s all there is to it.  This is the Demon that robs mankind of its humanity and turns it into a selfish, fearful, ignorant, disempowered, bigoted, needy, greedy, murderous rabble of seven and a half billion unaware individuals, all seeking their safety, fulfillment and salvation through the aegis of its Evil Trinity of Powers.  All handcuffed securely to the apparatus and believing itself unable to function without worshiping, praying to or paying for, some aspect of the Powers’ domination.

Now that this great ruling Trinity of Powers is dissolving from over-reach of its own powers; from mocking the basic substance of life source as far as this one world goes at least, the crawling, groveling masses attached to this dying monstrosity are simply freaking into melt-down or numbing themselves into complete denial.  One bunch runs around on the Internet screaming that the sky is falling while the greater unwashed masses of unknowingness simply choose to believe that the sky does not actually exist, thus how could it fall? It’s all a conspiracy, however you look at it.

Meanwhile the Evil Trinity, knowing it can no longer back away from the abyss it has created; knowing its days are severely numbered, is developing ways to use the unwashed masses to block its fall into the abyss, if only for a time.  Every moment of respite is precious to the System.  It needs to slow down its fall; it needs to believe that it can “do something” to prevent its dissolution.  It doesn’t want to die.  Though old, decrepit and utterly pointless, it enjoys the taste of blood; it loves eating life alive and it dreads having its banquet of living flesh taken away, for without the living blood it dies.  It has none of its own.  Its entire life; its entire time has been made possible by gorging on the living.

If you look at the “nature” of man’s Trinity of Powers, and its rulers, and you consider how every man, woman and child is attached to this monstrosity, then it explains how man is the selfish, brutal, inhumane construct it has become: it responds to the goading of its Master.  The “Attached Man” also believes, through his soul-programming (the soul being a Matrix implant) that the dissolution of his Powers means his own dissolution.  That is what he is being told, what he senses at the deepest levels of his awareness.  This is Power programming, making him feel an ardent urgency to defend his Powers.

To do religion though it makes absolutely no sense in light of common sense and global observation.  To obey his government in voting, paying taxes and of course, joining up to go and kill “those others” who threaten his programmed beliefs.  To believe that life is tied in to “the economy” and that money is the root of all life.

The Powers are nothing but lies; life-destroying predators and parasites.  They cannot be anything else, having no life of their own.  Their sycophants, or priests, police, salesmen, politicians, militaries, preachers, lawyers, judges – the entire bureaucratic apparatus of power, are saprophytic, feeding on the dead matter discarded by the greater gods.  At the bottom of the mounting pile are the masses of believers, from those being born (decanted would be a better word) to those dying in various conditions of torment or emptiness.

The Power Matrix isn’t without its own set of virtues, or morality either.

Religion promotes three virtues: faith, hope and love, and claims the greatest is love.  It is: it’s its greatest achievement in fakery.

The State promotes love of nation, patriotism, nationalism, and it works though many see where it always invariable leads: to doubt, fear, dictatorial security, prisons and endless war.

Money’s great virtue is a kind of unholy grail called greed.  Greed, not as a terrible curse, but as a mighty achievement.  The more one accumulates of money and resources, the greater one is believed to be.  Those “Accumulators” become the rulers over the ignorant worshiping masses always looking up, endlessly hoping the crumbs will trickle down into their own mouths opened in praise.

The dissolution of the Powers cannot be prevented though it may be postponed at great costs of pain, loss and bloodshed as we see happening now, as we pass through the postponement stage.  They will fail, make no mistake about that.  Sadly, those attached to any aspect of these forces will suffer great loss in their downfall – a foregone conclusion.

There is a way, however, that can break the chains, the shackles, the brainwashing from the soul implant.  We were given an antidote to the Powers when we were designed originally to become human beings.  That was the plan, the goal, the great hope.  But we had to encounter our nemesis before we could activate our human template, and we had to learn, on our own, case by case basis, how to break free of our great and powerful Warden.

We were given compassion, the one thing that evil cannot corrupt because compassion can only function through self-empowerment and detachment, and such a condition is totally inimical to the Powers’ programming.

How about that, huh?  We had it, all along.  We never had to murder all those people; we never had to destroy the planet; we never had to poison, slaughter and destroy innocent wildlife.  In short we never had to do any act of evil we have done, nor do we need to continue doing the evil we do, and choose to believe we must do, in order to survive.  It was all a massive lie, from God on down to the last penny dissolving at the bottom of the sea.

Yes, we can, by personal choice, become virtuous and morally accountable for our passage here.  It was never dependent on anything, or anyone, else but me.  Just me.

 

Quotes to Live by (from a friend)

Maybe the reason nothing seems to be ‘fixing you’
is because you’re not broken.
Let today be the day
you stop living within the confines
of how others define or judge you.
You have a unique beauty and purpose; live accordingly.”
~ Steve Maraboli

“Don’t be pushed by your problems,
be led by your dreams.”
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Stay committed to your decisions,
but stay flexible in your approach.”
~ Tom Robbins

“When you forgive,
you in no way change the past
but you sure do change the future.”
~  Bernard Meltzer

“The power of the people is greater
than the people in power.”
~ Cory Booker

“Work for a cause, not for applause.
Live your life to express, not to impress,
don’t strive to make your presence noticed,
just make your absence felt.”
~ Author Unknown

“Let go of the idea of winning or losing.
In the game of life,
the most important thing
is just showing up and doing your best.”
~ Domonique Bertolucci

“Don’t give up now.
Chances are, 
your best kiss,
your hardest laugh,
and your greatest day
are still yet to come.”
~ Author Unkown

“I cannot let the fear of the past color the future.”
~ Julie Kagawa

“Everyone is different and everyone has a talent.
And if we put all those talents together,
it can make something
that no one’s ever thought of before.”
~ Sasha Etheredge

“I don’t really mind being
a “tree hugger”.
Trees give us oxygen,
and that might actually warrant a hug,
or even two.”
~ Jerrell Goodpaster

“Don’t become preoccupied with
your child’s academic ability.
But instead,
Teach them to sit with those sitting alone.
Teach them to be kind.
Teach them to offer help.
Teach them to be a friend to the lonely.
Teach them to encourage others.
Teach them to think about other people.
Teach them to share.
Teach them to look for the good.
This is how they will change the world.”
~ Author Unknown

 

Experiencing Wearing Down

   [thoughts from   ~burning woman~   by Sha’Tara]

When we’re young it’s basically impossible to consider life past, say, the age of 50.  Now so many of us live in what was then called “old age” in better or worse financial and health conditions.  I just watched “The Notebook” movie again – probably for the 5th time at least.  I’ll never get tired of that story, it’s so well told.  You’d think that a love relationship with such stormy and crazy beginnings wouldn’t have any hope of succeeding.  But in this story, it does, and it’s ending is wonderful and perfect.

I like a line James Garner says in the movie: “I’m experiencing wearing down.”  Many people feel that way in my age bracket.  We are indeed wearing down.  A whole gamut of emotions follows this wearing down.  For some it’s a blessing, for most, I’d say it’s never acknowledged, and for others, it is feared and fought to the end.  It does mean that we are approaching our rendezvous with death.  However poetically one phrases that, it is not a pleasant thought – honestly.

I am of those, perhaps having been raised quite strictly religious, who not only believes that life goes on beyond the body, but that it does so in full consciousness and “I” continue to live my life, replete with choices and destiny.  Later, when I overcame the need for religion, and the need to be totally dependent upon the caprices of some god, the inner knowing that life is eternal and infinite did not go away with my religion.  It was, in fact, the one thing from my religion(s) that remained true, if only for me.  (I think that in the realm of eternity, such choice to believe or not is entirely up to an individual, a sacred belief that no one has the right to either deny anyone, or force on anyone.)

Does that awareness make it easier to face the reality of death?  Not for me.  I don’t like the idea at all, even if, being of those who remembers past lives, I’ve gone through the process before.  It is the place where one, alone and helpless, faces the ultimate stripping of attachments to this life.  

For those who cannot believe in continuance, death is the end.  The termination of all awareness.  That, to me, would be unbearable.  I think one has to be incredibly courageous to meet death with such stoicism.  

For those, like myself, who “know” (as in some sort of unshakeable awareness) that life continues, the passage nevertheless is fraught with questions and trepidation.  I know, for example, of the many things I did (in this one life) that makes me a poor candidate for any sort of, shall we say, graduation to something better.  Countless thoughts, words and deeds must be there, ready to accuse me.  Is there some balance, some way that thoughts, words and deeds of the non-selfish variety can outweigh the others?  I honestly do not know.  There must be justice, that I know.

So as I inevitably wear down; as I come closer and closer to death (of the body) I ponder such things.  I don’t know what to expect, not exactly.  I have some ideas, some thoughts, on the matter but where are the facts? 

There aren’t any.  So what do I have to offer, if indeed some sort of judgment is in the offing?  Very little.  I can offer a changed life, from selfishness to detachment and self-empowerment in order to practice compassion and develop empathy.  I can offer forgiveness, certainly, that having been one of the easiest lessons to learn.  I can offer my personal commitment to my chosen purpose of a life lived to serve others – however much that effort remains wanting.  Beyond that, I have nothing to give in exchange for some sort of pass.  Perhaps that “nothingness” is what is needed?

Life is truly short and throughout its meteoric passage it never stops from asking us to make meaningful and life-affirming choices in all things.  If only we weren’t so spiritually and mentally deaf to the teachings we are given so freely, and all the time.  If only such would suffice to turn us from our baseless fears and selfishness that make us such bad stewards of our world and of those who need our compassion now more than ever just to survive.  If only… 

Quotes: 

“Throughout history, empires and civilizations have collapsed once they degrade the environment below its capacity to carry the human footprint imposed on the environment.” – Paul Craig Roberts

“When you are small, if you reach out, and nobody takes your hand, you stop reaching out, and reach inside, instead.” — Amanda Eyre Ward

“Nothingness is a sigh of eternity, a casual avowal of the infinite.” —  Edmond Jabès, The Book of Resemblances.

 

FIRE SPIRIT

[a short story   by Sha’Tara]

A restless wind whispers softly in the spruce on the edge of a small lake. Brightly shining stars and distant, paling northern lights cast eerie shadows in the late summer night. A great horned owl calls, answered by the howl of a timber wolf echoed over the waters. A startled killdeer gives its plaintive cry, repeated several times, then silence again. Glowing softly, a small campfire throws its own little stars into the night, their flickering, sinewy path changing to the mood of the breeze. A young woman sits near the fire, staring, unmoving, her dark eyes reflecting its dancing light. The minutes pass slowly as the stars trace their endless circle around the tail of little bear.

At a  chosen moment the woman stands and throws some broken branches upon the fire, watching intently as the flames leap up, crackling, hungry. She begins a slow dance around the edge of the fire, her bare feet moving through the drying grass, her footsteps blending with the lapping of wavelets on the shore and the sighing of the wind in the branches. She hums in a low monotone, unintelligible words passing her lips. Gradually, the song becomes more forceful. Proudly throwing back her head, her black hair cascading down her back, she lifts her hands up and starts chanting. The song rises and falls, hauntingly moving, echoes of ancient voices seeking words to an as yet unformed hope.

Her dance takes on a rhythmic pattern, her knee-length dress swaying as she approaches the fire then steps back lightly into the darkness of the trees, to reappear from another direction. Her voice rises above the trees, flowing through the rolling hills…

From the midst of the flame, a form takes shape, graying head bowed, hands held in blessing. The form addresses the dancer: “Daughter, what are you doing? Why dance with danger tonight? Why seek death? You are the hope of the people. Would you tempt the white man again and be accused of witchcraft? Would you die in his fire too? You summoned me… now answer me!”

Swaying gently, without looking at the flame, the song dying on her lips, she answers the vision: “I am your daughter. I cannot be otherwise and I have your heart also. You died to save me, mother, though I never asked it of you. Now, you are Fire Spirit. You live in the heart of the volcano at the centre of creation and possess the gifts of life and healing in full measure: would you deny me my own birthright and refuse me my homecoming?

There is nothing left here, mother. The people are ashes, spirits without homes. Those who remain are slaves eating crumbs from the hand of their conqueror. Should I fear a moment of pain and I too become a slave?

No, mother! Do not try to dissuade me. Tonight, I dance with the spirits under the stars. Tomorrow, I will dance in the fire. Then I’ll come to you and together we will prepare the medicine for the wandering spirits. We will rise with the breath of the sun in our mouths, awakening the land, shaking the ashes of the people in the winds until all becomes one and life pulses freely in the land again. I’ll see you tomorrow, mother…”

The flames died down and the vision vanished. She took up her chant and her dance, delighting in a myriad of physical sensations heightened by the knowledge that this was her last night on earth. In the morning, her relentless pursuers would find her. The angry new god would have his victim and enjoy a short-lived victory over the past. From his fire she would rise to become Fire Spirit and wrest the future from his bloody hands.

The Gift of a Life Changed

                                        [a short story, by Sha’Tara]

Oh, he knew her so well.  He remembered how she came and hovered over his crib when he was a tiny baby; how she fretted over him, and kept his rattle or soother at hand.  She was his “other” mom, and the older sister he never had.

Over the years she had come to him at different junctures of his life.  He remembered the glow of her presence at his first communion and later, his confirmation.  She encouraged him, and gently taught him to notice how other people, especially his elders, teachers and parents, lived their lives.  Don’t judge them too harshly, she’d whisper, but notice the hypocrisy, always notice that.  Don’t confront them, just note and remember.  Especially remember. 

Then he grew up and he didn’t see her during his time of rebellion, anger, chaos and confusion.  He saw girls instead and he lusted after them.  He did stupid things, boastful, ignorant, hurtful; things that endangered the lives of others.  It was as if he was possessed to do evil.  The girl he dated became pregnant.  He still had a sense of the old chivalry he’d learned from his childhood fairy tales and fantasies.  He asked her to marry him and she accepted.  Not the best start, but on their wedding day, she was there again.  He saw the glow and suddenly his heart opened and guilt filled his mind to overflowing. 

The moment passed.  Life was tough enough.  Wife, kids, a mortgage, car payments, responsibilities he was trained to handle, but nevertheless, stress.  There were other things to impede the good life: a growing awareness that the world was not a great place to be.  There was “the war” that needed protesting – he’d become a conscientious objector and tried to live by some personal code of non-violence.  There were draft dodgers from across the border to help find shelter and jobs.  Then environmental issues took priority and his life grew very complex and a darkness grew in his heart. 

The marriage failed.  He found himself, thanks to his losses, freed of a commitment he felt was complete.  But the darkness held him down.  He re-discovered religion and attended church.  It provided little.  He saw more of the old hypocrisy.  He saw how the claims failed to match the lifestyle.  Disappointed and discouraged he struck out alone looking for something, not finding. 

Lost in mid-life, he was walking along the river shore one cloudy day and sat on a fallen log on the bank.  Staring at the shining waters flowing past him, he formulated a prayer, or rather a request.  He addressed her and said, “You know, I’ve made a complete mess of things.  I wanted to do right, and did wrong.  I wanted to change the world and couldn’t even change myself.  The things I’ve done are horrible to me.  I’m sorry for my ignorance and stupidity, but most of all, I’m sorry for my pride. 

I need you to help me now, though I don’t deserve it.  I’m going to ask your for the greatest gift of all, knowing full well that it cannot be bestowed on anyone, that it can only be earned through experience.  I am asking you to grant me the gift of humility.  Only with that can I re-learn to live with myself.  I don’t expect to suddenly become humble, but I need you to guide my heart into this new and alien territory I intend to walk across until I reach the other side.  I’m going to proceed knowing that you are here, guiding me, and reminding me.  Thank you.

And so it was that he gradually changed.  He did not feel any more humble, rather the opposite, but others noticed.  Always he’d be shocked when they said something, or praised him for his kindness or gentleness.  That can’t be me, he thought.  Then he’d know she was there, calming his heart, softening his hands, making him choose his words with care, showing him how to proceed in all situations.  Over time he understood what it meant to be blessed.  He thought, I find it so amazing that the less I possess and the more I give away, the more I have; the more filled I feel.  And he learned to laugh. 

He lived long past his chosen time.  Those who knew him believed he’d discovered the secret of immortality but that was only their hope he’d always be around.  One day he left.  He walked away with only a small overnight pack on his back.  She walk silently beside him, then she touched him.  He was never seen again.  

A friend of his, having understood, said, we held on to him much too long.  We made him feel guilty about leaving but finally he allowed himself to hurt us a bit so he could claim his own freedom.  He’ll never be completely gone for he lives in each of us.  What he showed us, the wisdom he taught and the changes he wrought: those are the pieces of his heart we hold within ourselves.  He’s still here, giving us of himself when we emulate his burning joy.

Quote: Where you come from is gone, where you thought you were going to was never there, and where you are is no good unless you can get away from it. Where is there a place for you to be? No place… Nothing outside you can give you any place… In yourself right now is all the place you’ve got.” ― Flannery O’Connor