selfish

If there is true __elfishness,_ then there is __iberation of the Self_, and that indeed is one__ own form (the Self).

Too often there is this sinister greed that pulls at my coattails, subtly whispering in the ear of my soul that it is within my rights to tuck away a few dark trinkets to toy with when the tedium of righteous living gets a bit boring. But God would suggest that I empty my pockets.

What selfish soulwould ask anotherto livethis way.

I live with the hope that one day, someone, will look into my eyes and see the deepness of my soul, and all the suffering and struggles will finally make sense to the person that can see behind all the imperfections and dust that's been pilled up in all these years. I've had my turns at trying to love people, but it never turned out as planned and I've failed in keeping someone next to me, simply because you can't force someone to be by your side if it's not meant to be, and I've grown to accept that and not fight against it. I've been selfish for far too long in trying to cling on to someone, and I believe nobody is perfect.. But as long as I still breathe, I'm willing to let people come into my life, play their part in my life's plan and then let go if it's necessary. Nothing can last forever and it's something we grow to accept. Let time do its' thing and don't get too attached, that's all I can do.

Directing praise to oneself is to cash in on the ego in order to bankrupt the soul.

If I see God as nothing more than a caricature of history or imagination I cannot do anything less than make myself my own __od_. And once I realize that in doing so my rendition of being a __od_ is embarrassingly inferior to the very caricature I am mimicking, I quickly come to realize that maybe the only thing that can be __od_ is a God. And if that is the case, I suddenly find myself hounded by the stunning reality that God is not a caricature.

If I were to sit down and count them, how many of my prayers were tainted by the seduction of greed? None, simply because nothing of that sort is a prayer.

In one way or another, every mission that I have ever set out on to rescue myself is yet another mission that I end up needing to be rescued from. Hence, there is God.

Our prayers are something akin to delivering a list, verses surrendering a life. The former will always leave me creating the next list, while the latter will leave me creating a new life.

Maybe what I need to be rescued from is the feeling that I don__ need to be rescued, for without a doubt this is the most difficult rescue of all.

The best I can do is to __retend_ that I__ my own god. But in the pretending I have to pretend that I__ not pretending, and somehow that doesn__ sound very god-like to me.

I marvel at the placidity of the Utopian who imagines that man is perfectible. There is no denying that the human creature is born selfish, abusive, vile. Just look around you and see. Society cynical and ferocious, the humble heckled and pillaged by the rich traffickers in necessities. Everywhere the triumph of the mediocre and unscrupulous, everywhere the apotheosis of crooked politics and finance. And you think you can make any progress against a stream like that? No, man has never changed. His soul was corrupt in the days of Genesis and is not less rotten at present. Only the form of his sins varies. Progress is the hypocrisy which refines the vices.

I am thankful that there are those among us who have sacrificed dearly on behalf of us. And I ardently pray to God that I might be less like myself and more like them.

The sacrifice __f_ self for the greater good is the greatest calling imaginable, and it is the bedrock of the greatest nations. The sacrifice __or_ self is the most pathetic calling imaginable, and it is the quicksand within which nations perish.

Americans today confuse freedom with not being asked to sacrifice. The fact that you can't have everything you want exactly when you want it has somehow become un-American.

Independence that has declared its __ndependence_ from the sure and certain compass of sound morals is nothing more than rogue greed having scantily dressed itself in the garb of independence while running off the cliff of anarchy.

To embrace the message of Christmas is to throw off my hedonistic rebellion and bow before the chafing reality that I can't save myself, and in that very act to be suddenly taken aback in that I've stumbled upon the very freedom I've longed for in the very place I'd least expected it.

The assumption of __ights_ is the cancer of privilege.