Host (non resistance)

Inside his own mind he is distant even to his own ability. I can see it in his movements. Frustration, marijuana, and an always opportunistic eye. He wears all this on the outside of his clothes. I was like this once, unaware. He now wears my haircut, an old one I tossed away when I decided to stay.

This is not my son. This anger is hateful. I am silently compassionate, he will walk all over his mother. I am the only thing between her and this collapse. Soon I will stand aside. Lessons I have learned are lesson yet to learn. We are not connected in the beauty of connectedness. I am silent in my retreat.

They will tell you those that abandon you were only using you. This family has risen to its feral state and it is evident in the way the children steal from their mother as if she will not freely give. She told me about the $40 a day she was allowed to feed her family back in Kansas. Those are the generous days. Many days they had to make the money first.

I am not elite or better. I have walked miles from that notion. Miles of broken bruised sole walking. I am not resistant to providing, it’s just that once you realize they are using you, you begin to resist. You can twist your thoughts to believe you are helping and it is appreciated. But that all it is, the twist and to focus on it is death, death of the awakened state. So you numb your eyes and stall…