The Chariot

Everything is cyclic... everything has a beginning, an end and a rebirthing period... wheel-like.  Why it is we cling to one phase and shy away from others is beyond me, but it is what we do.  It is what *I* do.  Husby packed up and moved out the final scraps, pieces and straggly bits of his belongings today and although it wasn't "much" it feels very empty in here now.  Very vacant.  Very nothing-full.  I feel very small.

It's heartbreaking when things just don't turn out as planned- when the unforeseeable occurs and you're left standing in a rubble-pile of nothingness and could-have-beens.  Heartbreaking.  How is it that your best friend, your favorite being can just not fit any longer (maybe never did)?  How does it happen?  How does it get to that point where it's unfixable even though you're both crying for it to be fixed?  How did something seemingly so perfect in one light show how imperfect it was in another?  As those filters are retracted, how different Reality appears in the light of non-dualism... and how I miss him so.  Heartbreaking.  I think I said that already.

Dukha.  The ill-fitting wheel of samsara.  I thought all I needed *was* a wheel... how was I to know..?  Why wasn't THAT in the manual?  "Not only must you find A wheel, you must find THE wheel with unrecognizable XYZisms or you won't get your cart anywhere on that Path of yours anytime soon, not without throwing your back out in the process."  And now I am wheel-less... ill-fitting or not.  Now I must find ways to compel myself across this bumpy, seriously-needing-to-be-paved-what-the-fuck road, all by myself.  Fashion my own set of wheels- and start anew.  I wonder if I could just hire a mechanic...?