How old was I when I first looked into the mirror and wasn't enough

How old will I be when my reflection replies I'm too much

When fear comes in like a thief in the night,
When it grips your throat and lifts you up out of bed,
When your wandering eyes glimpse what your heart has been desiring for months,
When you give in to the temptation instead of looking to the breaker of chains,
This is when your faith is tested, this is when you see how weak you really are.

I sat and I listened.
I sat and I read.
I sat and I determined that I don't like being alone with my thoughts.
I sat and I realized I am scared of my own inner voice.

It caused me to remember past mistakes I wish were not in my head.
It caused me to miss someone even more than I already do.
It made me realize I am not dependent on my maker enough.
But at the same time what is enough?

Can you love enough?
Can you pray enough?
Can you read enough?
Are we ever enough?

In this world we are going to make mistakes.
We are going to hide from the ones we love.
We are going to be present and listen to them.
In this world, it is a dichotomy of light and dark.

When the fear comes and when it takes hold, what do I do?
Do I sway to the left or do I sway to the right?
Which side is the correct path?
Is either way correct?
Do I just need to sit, listen, and pray?

When I enter into the presence, I hope it is enough.
For when I pray those uneven, and negative thoughts creep in.
I get too scared to pray, I get too scared of change.
I am scared of these thoughts, I am scared that they will never go away.

It's *****,
It's messy,
It's a time where sin takes your faith hostage,
But at the same time, it strengthens your faith and requires you to quiet your soul.

Uneven, broken, failures, and grief.
Hope, joy, and relief.
A mix of who I am who I want to be.
A love that passes all understanding,
One that can cure the wound that doesn't seem to ever get clean.

Anxious.
Feeling insufficient.
Knowing I'm insufficient.
Wanting insufficiency.
Not quite sufficient.
Comparing and contrasting.
Contrasting.

Wanting acceptance to be my most authentic self.
What is my most authentic self?
Where do I find her?

Focusing on the next milestone.
Getting there and doing the same.
What do we meet at the milestone?
Will be happy will be content will be accepted will be winning,
at the next milestone.

How do you live in the present moment?
What is the present moment?

Bullock's orioles, namer cred, for which
I spare no intentional attention
to find the namer's bio, or even spend much time
wondering why men with names like
Bullock need the degree of fame,

there must be a spectrum, of fame, or worth,
a curve on an xy flatness depicting data points
of value, this to that,
high from low, long or short

here nor there, today the birds are being curioser
and kurio-ish, as if
playing a role in my reality, this one
with you
as dear reader the life force pulling lines from

-- Marcus Aurelius and C. G. Jung (in his waning days)
-- influencive words from men at leisure
-- to constitute a self
-- aware of you, dear reader, without you, no word
believes itself, per se,
beautiful for no intended reason. Ask that yellow fellow,
sipping sugar water,

why are you so beautiful. He takes no pride in saying,
I am a Bullock's Oriole.

We celebrate, don't we.
We celebrate celebrity, don’t' we.
Fame and fortune, apprehended while still alive,
we celebrate such aims
hit. Right on.
We worldly humus beings,
highest bits of the dust of the earth;
we,
self evidently know, in side, on the
inside of what we are,
there is an idea of being measured for worth,
by the joy you
use by right to stir the old ideas that once formed gods.

we feel the flow, we know more blessed to give,
than receive, given and given
evidence of all we know we never see
overwhelming the hope
deferred heart sick
deception post reception, too late,

the fix is in. The heart is new, not twisted, designed,
with that magnificent aortal vagus CNX action,
swirling the field of all we imagine into

watchaseeswattchgit

Hide, and watch… there is no whimper
when this bubble of been
is popped.
But its not a bang, more a hiss
or a sigh.
The
traditional medium, words,
thinking, the thinking thing seems to think
somethings
missing
something is
missing a sense of
why
mass and matter whats whats whats
first things first
wise arises as a character trait,
wait - there was a chance all hell could be imagined
as real as any thing, so we made some mods on V.2.1,
biome factors...

-- time, yeah, time is a factor, but not luck…

patience, per
fect love casts out fear, not
perfect aim.
good wins, try again

Fear not. Death has no sting.
That's it, God's own
fear fix, so low we go with this sci used,
just right, so
life always wins,
using sci-,
hence, no lie forms from truth,
no imaginable evil ever exists, never is perfectly empty.

panspermia pandaemonium psy=sci

wit use of knowns, we try
umph, and be come

at worst a proven unthinkable thing.

celebrity (n.)
late 14c.,
"solemn rite or ceremony,"
from Old French celebrité "celebration"
or directly from Latin celibritatem
 (nominative celebritas)
"multitude, fame,"
from celeber 
"frequented, populous"
(see celebrate).
Meaning "condition of being famous" is from c. 1600;
that of "a famous person" is from 1849.
When the old gods withdraw,
the empty thrones cry out for a successor,
and with good management,
or even without management,
almost any perishable bag of bones may be hoisted into the vacant seat.
[E.R. Dodds, "The Greeks and the Irrational"]

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=celebrity>

Seen enough
Stumbled enough
Tolerated enough
But still can't get enough
the way this world works

I am sorry
About us
About everything that’s changed
We were so much
But yet not enough