The Lamp is Yellow, And Creates a Smile like the Moon on the Windowshade

There are a lot of ways to deal with despair, and many of them come more naturally than others. Fear is one, you let all of the amalgamated thoughts of possibilities of the unknown enter your mind until they grow in such number that they can make a new city, only of unknowns, the worst of which is death, the lesser is annoyance. Sometimes in this world we don’t know which is which, even the slightest thing can become amplified into something it’s not, the play of shadow from an object nearby, like the moonshape on the windowshade I’m looking at up to my upper right right now as the evening approaches. This is perhaps the easiest and most obvious ways that despair grows, the possibilities seem to shout down any hope of salvation, as if you’ll always be trapped in the unholy world of a city of fear, the contours of which we may never know

A second one is hate, the pain of division as we separate one thing from another, the forced comparison of likes and opposites, as if each moment you had to choose your favorite color. This is the worst of them. Hate cuts both ways, it’s like a pain inside that just grows deeper and deeper the longer the aversion lasts. Also easy to feel, and so destructive, creating countless wars, strife in families, friendships severed, always a cutting, something that only takes careful mending, somewhere between a needle and thread, or the detailed inner workings of the United Nations Security Council. And which is the more delicate work, it might be between the two, or perhaps exactly the same.

The third, and one I’d like to posit, is love. When we break down, we can see the distances less clearly. The earth can seem to shift beneath our feet, either to fall down, or be suspended in mid air. Do you remember the first time you fell in love? How the room felt lighter, how you might have glided with every step, almost as if you could fly, high above the everyday experiences into a view of the world around you, locked into two people, yet surrounded by so much more. This is also one of those kinds of senses of divisions, and so close, as I have read, and find in my notes here, so close to love. But a choice is made, the division is made into a desire for a union, stronger than the bonds of the physical world, limitless in the threads of time that love creates with every moment of being. Between ourselves and other, the greatest mending that could ever be found. It’s Easter, a day that asks us as Christians which we choose. Do we choose death, or choose life, maybe it’s not a question at all. We choose not to believe in hatred, we choose to believe in love, a love that removes all barriers, that leads us up into the sky, and endless world of discovery, the moment that could change the shape of time.

What we choose in these moments defines our reality, and is the gift we leave to the world, is what we can perceive. In the small room I’m sitting in, there are two lamps both emitting a calm glow, the shapes making shapes from the shadows, something that may or may not be there. In this small room, listening to music, I read about lands far away, places gripped by war. Sometimes it’s like we’re in one too, but not one where there has been actual death. But we die a little when we lose hope, and that’s not something I think we should ever do. It’s easy to say in the calm perfection of this evening, but I hope everyone tonight, can think a bit about it. What do we choose in our moments of greatest adversity, If we choose to love, the city of fear in our mind is made invisible, and in it’s place a limitless forest of wonder, or even a quiet place to collect our thoughts, but all this is held in our minds like a whisper, something gentle and kind, and what is this feeling? Is it like our first memories, or even as simple and impossible as being? Let’s see through all the mirage of hate. Lets choose to believe what we know to be true, that there is no division between self and other, but a chasm of space with which we have to pour the limitless love of our thoughts. All over the world, the answers are simple, it is so much easier to love than hate, for the shape of reality could be seen to be infinite, or as indefinable as a space large enough to carry our thoughts, and our hearts, both as small as a raindrop, and as vast as the limitless sky.

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