Weaving Through The Pages

There's an old book that sits on my desk collecting dust. But from time to time, I dust it off and begin to read through the pages. It's called I Love the Word Impossible by Ann Kiemel. And every time I pick it up, I always seem to find a section that fits what I'm going through.

people - the pendulum swings

in everything beautiful there is a pinch of sadness...
somewhere.
sometime.
it seems to give balance.

i know what it is to love someone.
to laugh easily...
but when those i love hurt, so do i.
their causes become my causes, in some form.
their disappointments and injustices are absorbed right in with
my own. i cannot be removed ... disconnected.

... everything must balance.
if i want to love deeply, i should expect to suffer deeply. that
means i more or less choose, for myself, what i want to put in and take out of life, nothing great or noble or deep comes cheaply.

no small, smooth, shiny cross.
a bigger, rougher, heavier one.