See, it’s okay. It’s like cancer. Or tumor. And I don’t know enough of either but I think you’ll get the point:
small like a cell; it spreads;
there’s no denying its power.
So when the tiny little bud is born, you have to wait. The part of introspections and realizations comes later and between this and that, that is, its making and its becoming into something you can actually study or review, there are Happenings.
Happenings I cannot really define. They are about your own actions or decisions, mistakes, coincidences, surprises or shocks resulting in sadness or happiness, honor or humiliation, anything. Investments. The Power decides whether it–the bud– is to grow or not and in which direction. That, however, doesn’t mean you have no say. Because you do. It’s very different but it’s true. You show what you want. Later you get to see the fruit. It could be bad or good but it’s written. Sometimes it rots, wrapping and ruining your heart and skin and brain and almost all of your body.
Vines and vines and fungi.
Grey green with a smell so pungent it makes you sick.
Sick like a man on a boat to nowhere who has no fuel and no help.
No map. Trapped. Alone.
But with a power to bear! And one day, suddenly, you cut off the poisonous vine. The effect isn’t immediate but it’s there: Pain. Hurt. Peace. The understanding comes–not then but then–that all of them (and more) are gifts! It’s really not about anything else.
There is Power that is Present. There are dreams that you can really live. There are fruits that are lovely and fragrant and are there for everyone.
You don’t have to be sure about it.