irony of ironies, i am unable to do the one, last thing because to do it would mean having to endure another contact and i simply will not do so. cannot. will not. sickened and repulsed and done done done done done, damn you to hell, DONE.
i would rather just let it sit and gather dust until the weight of the dust grinds it into nothingness than ever, ever again find as much as a dot come my way from either.
and so it will.
Rinpoche hugged me and said something that hurt even as it helped, “As you need, do.”
oh irony. the comfort, of course, is in knowing HE means it.