Sometimes we don’t want to get in trouble; we want to play it safe and try to not make any mistakes.  It usually doesn’t work very well because we’re in the wrong species.  My dog has much better luck with that.  I look at the things I possess and I see status quo.  I have a DVD collection, CD’s galore, a place to live in, a will of my own. I have the capability of making my risks very calculated, to the point of not being risks at all. Some of us have lives with little to regret as a result, but little to be proud of.  We have no desire to become cautionary tales of potential gone to waste, so we stay in the background and don’t make waves.  Stagnation is fear, which so often plays into memory.  Our memories are brilliant poets but their poetry isn’t always true.  We learn lessons not meant for us and it causes fear of the future.  I have an aspiration, a dream, things, ideals, but a thousand things, dreams, aspirations, and ideals have gone unexplored.  We are full of ourselves and empty as a result, pools of quiet water, unspoiled by human touch and excitement.  But if I’m a quiet pond, Jesus is one who skips stones.  There is much I have yet to make.  And in this moment of realization, I find freedom, a sweeter taste of reality.  We have the changes in our pocket, the future in our hands.  What we choose is how to wield it.  We could dance with freedom in our veins, the birth of a new day on our lips, or we can stand still in a life of deja vu and be right in our constant sense that somehow, we’ve done this all before.  We can be stagnant, or we can live. We can remember the times before our childlike spirit and sense of wonder became ensnared in webs of obligation and doubt; we can learn to escape our bonds without destroying them.  We can live.

Our only other option isn’t worth it.