Tendrils

I stepped out of the rat race- into my house - to create a home. And ironically I detect a loss of my sanity within this peace. Without the experience of a struggle, the mind is fogged by peace, my heart is riddled with attachments. When I slow down to really view life, I realize how utterly beautiful she is. How gorgeous is every second spent alive.
So how do I love my children - and not fear death? How do I live with a loving husband - and not fear loss? What is this about life that every turn is full of conundrums? Little ironical twists that have me plunging my innards for rationality, equanimity, humor, courage. I am told to stand in the midst of this tempest- clothes billowing, hair streaming- but not blink!
A while ago I could have honestly say I did not fear death. That I did not dread my absence, I did not cringe at nights. Now I feel tendrils all around me curling, tightening, lulling my awareness, dulling my alertness. Fragrant tendrils of decieving sweetness.
Perhaps life is so full of care, because if you do stop and stare- the withering rose can break your heart.