The Two Constants / by Megan Hollingsworth

The yurt I occupy now is heated by a wood stove. My body is kept warm by the remains of trees who once provided my breath, as my breathing helped sustain their lives. My body would not be possible without trees and myriad others who are in the process of being themselves; myriad self-determined others.

And, my body is not just for housing me. My body both sustains and costs others while alive and after death. My body, like all bodies, is part of a vast, knowable, and ever changing body. My own body does not belong to me. Rather, my body is something in my care, made possible because others lived. My body is purposed as much for me as it is purposed in service to others.

The great hurdle is the concept of ownership; that something or someone of the ultimate belongs to me. Everything of material that passes through my hands is possible because someone lived self-determined - independently interdependent - just like me.

When I think that something or someone belongs to me, I fear losing what was not mine to begin with. The fear of losing inspires jealousy and possessive behavior. Once I embody jealousy and possession, I am no longer an open vessel, but a closed container in which love, in all its expressions, stagnates. Stagnation is the root of all disease and disorder.

The two constants are love and change. Love itself is ruled by change. The two move as one on the dance floor. If you must grasp to something, grasp love itself. Let love lead you in the dance. Become this peaceful state of mind. Trust self-determination, yours and everyone else’s. 

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