If you were a true seeker of truth, it would be not only possible, but probable, that you would pull everything you "know" and everything you have around you, and everything you are, and pour it into this little bucket of faith. You would surrender yourself, and put everything important, and everything of any significance to you, in jeopardy. You would put it all in doubt. Only from doubt, may we have certainty. Doubt and certainty cannot exist without the other. Love cannot exist without hate or contempt. Contempt cannot exist without love. You can't know what it is to love, without knowing what it is to hate someone. In order to doubt, one must be certain; in order to be certain, one must doubt.

The balance is struck when one can live...when one can let the opposits co-exist. When one uses one to prove the other.

I have put things on the line. I have risked everything, and everyone, for a moment of certainty. I have risked it all so I could be certain that I was making the right choice.

But what kind of person does that make me? To be certain? Why would I want to be a certain person? A degree of confidence comes with certainty, but pain has been soon to follow. I want to know, beyond a doubt, what I was doing is right. And more than once, I have known. I knew it, without having thought about it. Those are the things I need to observe, and witness, and allow in my life. These are the things I have taken for granted.

I have taken the world for granted. I have been told to touch the world softly. To just grace it with my presance - no more than that. I need to remember these things. I need to remember how to be, without consuming.

I have been told I have a great mind. "A beautiful mind, yours is, Lizzie Annie." From great minds, can come great qualities and choices, but also, from graet minds, come great mistakes. Great vices. Incapable of living without the other, people have a tendancy to manifest their mistakes. To manifest their worse fears. To put the thought, and the intention into the universe. Sometimes, those same people, dwell in their misery, and surrender their self regard, erasing their self esteem, and wandering endlessly through a tranquil wicked garden.

People have influenced my life. I have been touched by all of those around me. I have taken them for granted.

I have taken you for granted.

I have taken my existance for granted. I seem to only look at the bad things, and feel the bad things, and dwell on the bad things. To be consumed by the bad things. It's easy for me to love, but even easier for me to hate. It is easy for me to be content, but even easier for me to be depressed. What kind of person does it make me to be so capable to surrender to what is easy? How strong am I really, if all I do, is surrender to what is easy?