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How can you help anyone if you don’t find the world to be an amazing place?

I think it is a valid question. One of those thoughts that strikes you in that numinous sweet spot between opposites. See, I have this thing, this ramble brain mode where these diametrically opposed trains of thought go sweeping through. I’m at once actively participating and idly watching them go round and ride, shooting past rapidly or creeping at a snail crawl. The tracks meander around but there is one spot, one special place I've found where they cross and if you work at it, if you are persistent and have that feather’s edge of luck, you can get those trains to collide. When that happens, oh when that happens, you get to slip into that space between the worlds, that numinous place where sight becomes the velvet touch and sound smells as rose peaches warming in the sun as you feel the rhythm and taste of honey.

So there I was, one train creaking by its smell of rust tainting the air. I look around and lingers on the past mistakes and ignored chances, I dread the becoming, and already regret the should be. The idling motor spews grey as a realization strikes that life just hasn't turned out as one planned or hoped. That can be Depression with a capitol D. 

But that is just one train. Another is meandering about. This thought looks at the world and wants to dance and laugh. There is humor in the air and joy is smelt near and afar. I idly watch this train realizing it is right, the world is a beautiful place. I avidly dive in and catch the fever of life whirling about on its mad mad wonderful ride. I’m stumbling around finding beauty everywhere.

And it happens. The impassive conductor of both stands calmly aside and throws the crook to pull the two trains together.

The trains collide and I step through. I laugh, life is amazing and you have to just look. It isn't place as much as perspective. I spontaneously say, ‘How can you help anyone if you don’t find the world an amazing place?’ I’m not particularly asking, I can feel the wonder of the question, I’m in awe of a sense of rightness in this numinous concussion. 

He asks, ‘You think I am not amazed?’ I look and stop. My stomach sinks and with a looming heaviness I say, ‘If you aren't, I would be sad.’ I linger on this, I feel the sorrow of the truth of this. I think of others I know who bury themselves in helping others yet it is only a ruse, they are trying to find joy through others about them. They run that hamster wheel never realizing that until they find amazement, until they feel that awe and open themselves to life around them, they will never feel that joy. Someone who is not amazed is a sorrowful thing.

The worlds are wondrous places. Never stop feeling amazed.



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