Certainty

I was eager to explore when I was younger, always excited at the horizon rising up to greet me, revealing hidden worlds.

And then I shrouded myself in certainty, content with absolute Truth, comforted that I finally knew and understood, and more than willing to put away whatever didn't conform.  The Truth contained within it intimacy and ecstasy and I knew I needed nothing beyond that.

But more and more as time wore on, the shroud that had been a comfort, felt like a death wrap, like protection between the world and me, but also like the clothing of death.  And in a way it was.  The clothing of spiritual death, of dying alive.

These days, I don't want death, not even symbolic death.  I want life.  Not safe.  Not secure.  Not shrouded.  Not certain.  Not easy.  Not detached.  Not always perfect.  Just life.