hope

See, a king will reign in righteousness and rulers will rule with justice... The mind of the rash will know and understand, and the stammering tongue will be fluent and clear... For the fool speaks folly, his mind is busy with evil... The scoundrel's methods are wicked, he makes up evil schemes to destroy the poor with lies, even when the plea of the needy is just... The fruit of righteousness will be peace; the effect of righteousness will be quietness and confidence forever... They will live in peaceful dwelling places, in secure homes, in undisturbed places of rest. 

I can't be ever right on my own. I know that. I eagerly await the righteousness for which I hope. But neither circumcision nor uncircumcision has any value. What counts is faith expressing itself through love. I fall far short in this area. And I write about it. Because I realized that shutting up doesn't really help me, either. There's a longing for clarity. I need to see what I'm thinking, if at all. For example, I find myself so quick in finding others' faults and so blinded in my own. Which disgusts me. This disgust becomes clearer when or after I write, along with the general sense of clumsiness and disorganization manifested in the flow of thought. I do sometimes worry about the possibility of emanating a certain energy or thought that's not wholly positive or hopeful. If that happens, I never mean it to be the end result. Fragile, sometimes corrupted thoughts and feelings are transformed into concrete ones. Only then, I can put them aside and be away with it. Away with it as a process of understanding something better, bigger and higher. 

On a side note, I don't know what it is, but I think there's something special about blogging. No matter how few read my post. I remember some Canadian writer said something about it. What exactly she said, I forgot. Some external, imaginary consciousness I can freely exploit without guilt? Anyway, it helps, sometimes.