I have yet to be the best at anything and I sincerely doubt that I’ll ever be the worst, although I have genuinely felt that way about myself at times.

And, yet, I am far from average.

“How far from average?” someone in Readerville asks.

Well, turns out that average itself is actually an average of a range,
and the range can average and depends upon where on the range you started.

(averagely speaking)

You see, we’ve concluded conclusively (our scientists have) that 

exactitude is a fiction and that

knowing anything certainly is an impossibility. Crap. So, where does that leave us?

We can turn towards one another and begin to try to trust those impulses and feelings that have historically been evidenced to be helpful and true and link them to our present truths, our present choices. The old truths and new are the same. Duh.

We simply cannot think our way into them. Duh duh

and, honestly, our thinking facet is really scared and scaring us. It’s thinking itself into abandonment issues.

Our spirit empathizes 

and cannot explain                       it’s a moment of choice for us
over and over                           time and again for each of us

Once we are clear in our hearts which direction we’d like to follow, we won’t have to think much at all as we follow it with kindness in the attempt toward helpful.

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    Disclaimer: Poetic license is at work both here and in my books. Any errors or anomalies are through no fault of my editor. These were left deliberately at my expressed intention to clearly indicate that goodness does not require perfection.

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