There is some sense that the divine should be something other than this earth, when in fact the earth itself holds more mystery than could ever be empiracally measured. The puppet master in the sky image of God does not necessarily perfectly find its way into this thinking- it more feeds a rather patriarchal and in many ways, empirical nature of reality. The earth itself, however, speaks in abstract terms, whistes without words and continues to unfold in a myriad of matrices that never quite add up to numbers or letters.

There is a constant dialogue running between me and the world that never ends and never quite begins. Words just constantly froth on the tip of my tongue.

The universe percieves through me. We are a web of a web of a thousand tiny monuments. I have a whole universe inside me. We all relate in the best way. 

And there is always this sense of situation. As if I were only some place else I would be happy. And I cannot be anywhere other than where I am in the constant present. And it is rather my mind than my situation that I am blaming. There is ALWAYS something new to be discovered in EVERY rock and ounce and morsel of organic life. How everything shapes itself anew every day. And in the forms and formulations of your presence. It is only once I am fully entrenched in a world that I can truly begin to pick out and pin point the exact and precise layers of matrices within it. Falling in love is wonderful…but knowing the full essence of a person and the way their skin crawls and why is so deeply rewarding. Everything has its place in time…but I am just constantly baffled by my own breath and it frustrates me that people get so wound up in the game and the self-inflicted stresses that they cannot even see how beautiful their own games are and how funny it is to live within them. And in this release of our own hold on our lives…isn’t it enough simply to breathe? Isn’t it enough to embody a full musculature? To be healthy and to own a body that can move through space and time. To be able to breathe in the wild scents of the wind that carries decaying leaves. Isn’t it enough to simply be alive? Must we also strain ourselves to need a new pair of shoes? Or to need to be some where else? I do not deny these desires and their absolute validity and necessity and even beauty…but why can’t we all learn to release ourselves into the arms of the earth that consistently moves and breathes and gives us this glorious and unfolding mystery. 

And I have NO right to tell anyone how to live their life. I do not preach happiness, I think it is a shallow emotion. I cannot presume that my reality is any more real than anyone else’s. But then how do I reach through to anyone? Should I? What is my place? Thinking you have some destiny to change the world is such a part of this bullshit American dream…but at the same time…do I resolve myself to nothingness? Somewhere there is a balance that I will learn to find. 

This job fills me and fuels me with naive, young 20’s hope in a non-profit that we can make change. I acknowledge that it is youthful but it is WONDERFUL and I want to follow it. 

What on earth did I do to deserve this life? I have no idea. 

I find I am closest to myself when I am giving fearlessly in all directions. Outrageous, seemingly irrational love. I’m not longer afraid of wearing my heart on my sleeve and letting it caress me all over…visibly, wildly…unwarranted passion that spills out of my every shrieking pore. I am determined to love with vicious serenity and inescapable openness. 


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