Learning how to live can take your whole life, if you let it. There’s a lot to it. First you have to find that space you can feel, but that no anatomist will ever name. Then you have to trust it.
Get to know it. Understand what it feels like: when it is full; when it is empty; when it is resonant. When it buzzes with dissonance. When it thrums with fear. When it rings hollow. When it is contentedly silent.
Most of us live as flowers -subject to nature. Grow, blossom, allure, seed, fade. Death is staved off only by going to seed. Yes, only.
There are stories. Of course there are stories! (And there always will be) We have so many stories now: exponentially multiplying; ever shortening, from epics to viruses. But stories lose their names, and their mothers, after the first breath.
Thus, it is seeds. Or this one life. Nature whistles nonchalantly while each of us chooses; just another carnival shill. No one’s willing to reveal, it’s a sucker’s game either way. So there’s only one thing to do: if you have a choice, make it.