the contention of being

Who am I?  Who do I think I am?  The joyous rage I inhabit from simply asking myself that question is quite remarkable. To know that at least to myself I exist. I am someone, and even If I don’t know what I want to venture into, I’m someone with a blank slate. The power and potential to become. Attaining any awareness, fighting an adversary of some sort, reflecting on a new stage or position. How fantastic is it to know that I am someone.

A consuming humility takes over me when I walk down the street because it is the most stimulating experience of being. People are aware of you and you, aware of them. A nodding gesture gives confirmation that I am here; walking down this sidewalk with a half eaten bagel. Bumps and tiny corners on subways are exchanged. I’m still pushing towards my destination- because I’m being.

The value of what does is inhabited by what is.

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