Time relentlessly hammers on. Causes and conditions manifest to signal and suggest courses of action. None of them definite; signposts pointing off into hazy mists.

At week six at the monastery, the "demons" have started to emerge. Added to that is overload. Burnout. Making sure none of it shows on the outside. Story of my life.

What I'm so-calling "demons" aren't bad, they may easily be a truth of mine. They may be the same old things that have driven my life this far (hint: the content of much of this weblog), but now they're being re-contextualized. Now a viable alternative has appeared and they are in opposition to it. They've been marginalized.

A new reality may be forming around me, but I'm still asking myself what my truth is. Will it be this new reality, or can I jump down the black rabbit hole of my old one and bring it to fruition? That used to be my entire reality. Now a new reality has formed in the space around me, and the old one is just an escape hatch.

Dig deeper, there is no difference between committing suicide and ordaining as a monk. Everyone will tell me otherwise. Who are they to dictate my truths to me?

My feeling towards my own death is like waiting on line for a ride at the amusement park. I'm excited for it and I can't wait. I want to experience it. But the line moves so slow. And sometimes all these schemes and fantasies feel as real as smoke lazily blown on a breeze.