The decided nature to emphasize wrongful choices as other wrongful doings take place is a truth to the high road onto easy street. This high way is an oxymoron before it even comes to be because inherent in the judgment of that which is right to be right and wrong to be wrong is an involuted, unsubstantiated train of reasoning. I can't let on, facially, that I adhere or admit one box or the other, for I feel the guilt of separate systems of belief in my short course of morality. When it is too easy to be cavalier, then it is time to recalibrate the intention thermostat. My discerning is stronger now that I see the ease of others [and myself] to commit to a claim that holds spite in the central canal. I refuse to submit to a title that is less about encompassing the complexity of mine and other's lives but rather used to sharpen a tongue blade that slices off insult and injury. Until labels become artistic in manifestation, I prefer to work out of ideas.
When it is too easy to belittle the bemoaning of concrete pains, then it is far over due to sink into deep understanding to save, if even possible, a shred of mutuality. The celebration of life is neither taking it nor saving it. Rather it is being with it, as if it has no other moment but the potent one in space and time formally recognized as the now.
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