Tuesday, September 15, 2026
I refuse to accept responsibility. I quietly rebel against the notion that my parents made me, or my upbringing made me, or that life has made me to “survive.”
I quietly give up. I see futility in finding fault or casting blame. Did I choose to be here? Yes, but in the same way as I choose to breathe and blow the wind.
I have a sweet dog named Molly. She came into my life “involuntarily.” I didn’t want a dog, but she needed a caretaker. Apparently, I was sought after.
Why? To show me she needed me, and that she was innocent, completely unaware of her former owner’s negligence. Who made her, the breeders? I don’t think she has a clue nor does she blame anyone. How can I be completely innocent and needless as she, yet be dependent upon the very nature she comes from and is a part of?
Can you throw your arms up into the innocence of your own existence? Can you surrender to the unmade? Or must you do like so many and check on nature to see if she is growing, behaving herself, and nurturing? Must you lord over and dominate well-enough?
Nature needs no help, nor can she be blamed. She, too, is innocent. But reliable as rain. It might rain when you want it to, but not always. But it rains. When we release our wants, we become wanted. I didn’t know I wanted Molly – and she’s too innocent know who “her owner” is. It was a match of pure whimsy.
And now, I’m a stray. I am loved and cared for. I’m naked and innocent, helpless, and utterly baffled. Perhaps I am unmade. Unconditioned pure love.
I am just as baffled as Molly, yet innocent and free to roam and to know “my owner” as myself, an exact match.