Siona writes: life is excessive. Each moment - and this (as it is with too much I want to say) has the potential of sounding trite - is so inordinately full, so unbearably rich, that to dare to see and seize that is itself excessive. Experience demands
that we be unafraid of excess, of transgressing boundaries and being brave in the face not only of fear and pain and suffering, but of joy and love as well. (Because is it not true that it is the latter that people seem most scared of?) It is excess that is educational, excess that teaches one one's own boundaries, the natural limits of things, and imparts - obviously - a deeper understanding than any lip service to moderation could possibly do. And I am not excusing anything here. I am not looking to justify my past (or present) actions. The middle path is still the same. It is only through excess, though, that I know this.
Be brave in the face of love even though you know its excess will tear you apart. A wisely enlightened person eschews love and so does not grieve, but I am not wisely enlightened. I am only enlightened to light - to the excess of light that flows from every leaf and blade and overwhelms if you but allow it. Our senses are constructed to limit the light so that we do not suffer too too much - a mercy. There was a sage long ago who found all this out - through excess. He was called Sid. He took it to the limit and then at the end of a long gruesome night he was overwhelmed by the sight of the morning star. After that he couldn't stop. He saw love everywhere. And because he saw love and saw with love and was sawn by love - he saw the bitter edge of grief in every poignant turn. He could not help himself. They made a spiritual hero of him and elevated his memory above the human level, but I am sure, I am sure, I am sure Buddha wept.