There are so many ways to gather input about a life.
Pictures, stories, social media, music, movement, art—these days, you could probably even feed it all into a prompt and ask AI.

And maybe that becomes the sum of a life.

But is it?

There’s so much about living that stretches beyond our sensory space and time.
Yes, I can gather loads of data and information about a business—and in many ways, that’s enough to create a strategy, a game plan that can determine success or failure, worth or value.

Maybe you can evaluate a company, or even a country’s government, that way.

But not a relationship.
Not a family.
Not a community.

Because of hearts. Emotions. Conflicts. Hidden agendas.
Constructed personalities that only slightly conceal our raw vulnerability.

All that messy middle—that’s definitely missing from a Facebook post or a LinkedIn update. Missing from business strategies and financial results.

A life—
A real relationship—
Is dynamic. Moment to moment. Always changing.

And we are so uncomfortable with that.
We want to control the narrative.
To limit the unlimited.

But that’s only possible when we finally surrender—
To the unknown.
To our ego.

And we don’t do that well.

Because surrender requires trust. Faith. And that is…

LOVE.

We want love to be different.
To be neat. Predictable. Manageable.

But what love is—
Is simply pure consciousness.
Which just is.
Everything.

That’s way beyond our sensory, dimensional selves to grasp.
And our intelligence?
It keeps us from letting go and trusting—energy, God, purity.

We keep thinking we can know it. Capture it. Control it.

But we can’t.

The closest we come is when we surrender.
When we drop to our knees and cry because we don’t know what else to do.
When we sit beside another and simply be—
As they shake, or rage, or cry. Or just be.

When, in a flash, we let go of our righteousness and allow the light—or new information—
In.

Those are the moments I think we come closest to knowing ourselves.
And each other.

Those moments, I believe, are what truly make a life.

The rest—
Is dust.

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