Documentation.

What is my hunger?

I just want every experience to be full, but it's not.

I realize that as soon as I accept this, those very experiences will become fuller and more meaningful... but it's hard.

It almost makes it worse that every so often, an incredibly filling conversation or moment or sunset or rainbow or sound or sight or taste occurs.

There are times I struggle with words. But it is those times I feel the most at home, when I am the least bit me.

I was in class on Tuesday and I couldn't speak.

I was actually unable to do so

And it was, incredibly so, exactly the same feeling I have when I am in Quaker Meeting and must speak.

I am deeply immersed in an intense struggle.

I would not attribute a beginning to this, nor do I forsee an end. Neither are there.

It just is.

It is, I suppose, as if I am standing on the edge of a vast, inconquerable precipice.

There it is in front of me. And I must chose to trek, because not choosing is equivalent to being washed away in a great avalanche.

But there are many paths; there are many pitfalls. Stringent danger lurks in every foothold and every chasm.

I know that somewhere far beyond the treeline, my body will fail me.

Yet I began to climb knowing this fact and knowing my own death.

That is how I feel right now.