the ice is getting thinner

We are fragile. You and me.

Though we act strong, our lives are held together with thoughts of where we might be tomorrow. And of disappointed yesterdays.

At any moment we might shatter. We might fall to our knees weighed down by the terror of being so far from our own control.

Dare we look up, we’d not know where to go or what to do.

We are fragile. You and me.

If we were to turn to each other, we might see the whole world on their knees. Hurting, and seemingly alone.

But none of us are.

“It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.

I was so preposterously serious in those days, such a humorless little prig. Lightly, lightly – it’s the best advice ever given me. When it comes to dying even. Nothing ponderous, or portentous, or emphatic. No rhetoric, no tremolos, no self conscious persona putting on its celebrated imitation of Christ or Little Nell. And of course, no theology, no metaphysics. Just the fact of dying and the fact of the clear light.

So throw away your baggage and go forward. There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet, trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair. That’s why you must walk so lightly. Lightly my darling, on tiptoes and no luggage, not even a sponge bag, completely unencumbered.”