Fear

I often wonder what use people find in pouring themselves out onto the masses and then ponder still, what remains in their cups for them to drink? Is there a certain pain that is felt when the sole thing that cannot be stolen away, is given away, yet wasted by its imperceptibility and inexchangeablity? What would posses someone to sell something (namely themselves) for lesser value?
Despite the lofty barriers to uncap what better remains sealed, this package comes with a leaky hole that grows larger and larger with the expansion of the vessel by every inputted bit of knowledge and meditation. Maybe the fear is only rooted in the emptiness of the vessel and the desire not to waste what little milk it has on the unconcerned carnivores.
I find it difficult to believe that because of my youth my ideas, views, and beliefs can be silenced by the stigma that my age carries yet I have to believe that my word still holds some value, if not to just myself. Regardless of the reason(s) for my silencing, be it that I'm misunderstood or, the more probable reason, that my ideas are simply eclipsed my my uncontrollable ego, I must pay homage to my servant Nader and for the "elderly" youth of my group who made blogging "cool." I guess we'll see where the Spirit leads.
"I hope - I hope - that I can ...for myself go pearl hunting but, heck, I might find something useful for you, too. Thanks for visiting. Come again."