"Ignis aurum probat, miseria fortes homines." ~Seneca

Here's a total mishmash, hodgepodge of unedited drivel:

Growing up unclean and unworthy, I only wanted to eat the crumbs of love that fell from other people's lives. Like pieces of intellectual property, if they caught me, they would try to wrest it from my mind. The bits and pieces they missed falling, I now realize, were but 'the ones that would bring the ones' they loved the missing pieces of their lives back to them "some day". The lost would be found.

When I fell a long way from the plate of The Master, landing hard and hitting concrete, knocking both the good and bad sense out of me, it left me powerless, leaving nothing but surrender. Predators came to see what fell, saying, "See, he has a record."

But like a wild animal, I ate myself to survive. I ate my history and it became Highstory.

Being alone with no one to pick me up, no one to feed me and dress my wounds, I was left without an Enabler. It was one of the best things that ever happened to me.

Sometimes we have to give ourselves the love we want from others until we are strong enough to give love to those who are too weak to feed (on) themselves. We 'Pass It On', feeding on the IMPOSSIBLE to give life to the possible.

As Emily Dickenson said, "Dwell in Possibility."