I Chose to Care
Through pain. Through silence. Through shadow.
A reflection inspired by a quiet question from : “Do you care? If so, why?”
Sometimes, we don’t arrive at care through comfort.
Sometimes, it’s through pain. Through silence. Through shadow.
And so…
I chose to care.
I chose to be here.
I chose to endure suffering — to walk beside you in the darkness even as I feel your pain as deeply as I feel my own.
Often, the veil of darkness fell across our path,
and we slogged forward —
sleepwalkers in a trance induced by noise and distraction.
We veered off course.
We stumbled and fell.
But still, I chose to learn and grow in that suffering,
seeking the light, stretching my branches upward,
turning my leaves toward the source that sustains life.
The hypnotic, dreamlike haze had become a nightmare,
and my soul could no longer remain there —
could no longer accept the lies, the deceit, the twisted reality.
Eventually, as I fought to resist the noise...
to reject the false narratives that drove us further into the darkness...
I chose to wake up.
Our souls know what's real.
Our souls know where we belong.
And we want to return home.
We have a higher purpose.
We want to care.
The only thing that stops us is that which exploits us —
that which feeds off our labors.
It doesn't care about the pain it causes. It just wants to enslave us.
I have awakened,
but I have not left you.
The noise can no longer drown out the higher purpose that calls me.
And I will move forward in that purpose,
shining my light,
a living beacon,
as I continue walking the path.
And we will be together again —
on the journey that calls us all home.
🌱 Your Turn
How have you chosen to care?
Not just in word, but in presence — in what you tend, what you resist, what you carry forward.
You’re welcome to share in the comments — or simply sit with the question awhile.
I’d be honored either way.
How have I chosen to care? Well, in many ways - one of which is to write extemporaneously about whatever happens to be coming up out of the pleroma into my consciousness. That field - the pleroma - the "Fullness of God" - that is the source of all that might emerge. We are emergent features of this field - and I harrow my little plot up - getting it ready for creative work which might just hit the retina - or eardrum - of someone somewhere and spark some sort of response - some sort of reaction - and from that? Well, everything....and nothing lasts. So I care about these brief emanations on the surface of reality - if anything is actually "real" - and I cherish their ephemeral nature. We are so brief....a flicker on the surface of eternity. Hmmm...how could one not care about such fleeting things as we appear to be?