I can’t make anything stick, hard as I try. The ego lives for that. As someone who writes freely of their own sorrow, even I can’t make it stick. It won’t hold up in court. Isn’t that wonderful and isn’t that scary?
You see, my ego has an agenda built on lies. Somebody said that Satan was the father of lies. So now we know who made the arrangement. And it is not easily broken. Hard to break up with the devil because he knows how to get us to stay.
He throws out lures and we bite. The fruits are bitter but we have become used to them. At some point we nod agreement with the fictional Dr. Gregory House, who said, “Everybody lies.” No one can help it. Even good people lie. It’s a good thing that lies don’t stick.
Most of all, we want to make life stick. There is something about making a will that makes your skin crawl. I will never forget making mine. It was on my birthday and my husband was dying. It had to be done. Birth equals death. They live on the same continuum.
Does love stick? It doesn’t have to. It is not made of opposites. So I can try all day long to make the good things stick and the bad things fall away, but it is an effort made in vain. Love would have me learn that.