Recently I have been noticing my hesitation towards joy. We all have this to some degree. It’s the belief that joy is something to be defended against because it can so easily be taken away.
What are you supposed to do when you finally empty the backpack you’ve been carrying your whole life? I’m lost in the middle of this question, and it all started with an actual backpack filled with actual rocks.
Death is not something we like to think about, talk about or face up to. And yet the truth of our mortal condition is always lurking just outside of our thoughts, conversations and awareness.