As soon as something stops becoming, I believe it ceases to be. Much of old age death is like that. We stop trying to become. Perhaps, we are too sick, too immobile, our minds too foggy. Whatever the reason, we stop striving toward something else and we just are. And just being is the beginning of the end and, at that point, the end is often rapid.

In the language of positive and negative, the negative becomes too great, too over-powering. We lose balance, leaning too far in one direction. We become the negative and stop striving for something positive, even a small dab of positivity. And, that is the beginning of the end.

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I was always a writer but lived in a bookkeeper’s body before I found Medium and broke free — well, almost. Working to work less and write more.

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