Some of the most beautiful songs in the world are simple.  A note here.  A note there.  The magic is in the arrangement.

Sometimes we reach in life for the complex.  The confounding.  The awe-inspiring.  We reach for some sort of depth, hoping to find meaning, understanding, acceptance, and resolution in it’s murky waters.

Now I’m hardly an authority on such things.  My entire life I have looked for what is simple.  A simple life.  A simple love.  A simple purpose that has a simple ending.  Yet in all my searches, I am completely told that I am complex.  That I don’t think like others.  My brain is different.  I’m unrealistic or I expect too much.

Do any of these accusations hold weight?  Can such withstand the burden of scrutiny and critique?  Perhaps.  I don’t think that is necessarily my decision to make.  I am what I am…as has so many times been famously quoted by those who seemingly had much greater responsibilities than I.

Or did they?

As we begin to peel back the layers of such philosophy, there remains a commonality in each level of discovery.

We’ve seen it all before.

You see, like layers of sediment compressed by the eons of time, what was there is still there.  We can identify each season of our lives by the archeological remains left behind.  The skeletons of our past may not be hiding in the closets of our awareness, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.  And, just maybe, in the unearthing of these fossils we can begin to define the who, the why we are today.

And surrender.

Is it giving up?  Nah.

Sometimes we put a shovel in the dirt.  We want to build an edifice.  To give us purpose.  To leave something behind.  But in the process of building monuments for others to admire, we destroy what made us who we wanted to remember in the first place.

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