to step outside oneself

I’ve been thinking a lot about intentions. Silly little things that mean a lot and are ultimately forgotten in the noise. We accept them as they are and then we morph them into something new. Demonize them, glorify them, modify them to fit our fears or justifications. Intentions are lost to the sands of time because we only see what we want to see.

I spend whole days stewing in a broth built on intentions that have been steeped in my own agitations for so long they become bitter. What results is a mixture of half truths and speculations. I’ve come so far from the purity of the intentions I started with that I’ve built something entirely new. Suddenly I can’t see where I’ve started, I’ve created a moat around myself filled to the brim with this acrid bath water.

And so it’s refreshing when I remember intentions. Clear water running through my mind for the first time in days. How easy it is to choose grace. How much simpler it tends to be when we remember each other’s humanity. If we’re made primarily of water, the majority of that water in each of us is no doubt clouded from the same tired concoction. All of us are poisoned by our own wells. But so often, our intentions are fair. What if it’s not as bad as you think? What if it’s as good as you can imagine? And somewhere along the way, that truth simply was lost under the surface while we were tending to the nonsense we create.

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