Not Solid

We steadily and unceasingly work to make ourselves and all that is around us seem solid and substantial.

Our home is ours, but then we move.

Our ‘look’, our ‘style’, disappear like our fist when we open our hand when we change our mind.

Our spouses, our family, our friends and enemies, we will be parted from all of them on our death or theirs.

Our lives become more real when we let go of trying to be what we are not. We are a very fragile collection of parts-ephemeral and passing.

We can relax and take joy in that!​