I can’t say the validity of ANY of what is happening to me…but then, how can I say the validity of everything. I feel finally homeless and free only within my own skin. Home seems to have spread infinitely out into a thousand places and all of them are visible and accessible and each with their own presence and power…yet nothing is holding me. This is a place of dreaming for me. Of seeing. The in between place where all seems quite visible. Almost an objective plateau with which to see the whole of my being and to discover the truth of where I want to rest my head in the world. The wires are unplugged and I am just suspended in the air. 

And when I am scared, when I am terrified of my own feet, when I am hungry and impatient…I go to the sea…and everything seems born again. Everything rolls back. And I become that vital source of breath again. 

I must be living in a dream. 

So live a dream for 3 months. 

The scope is vital. But the present is the only power. Some balance between them is where we live. 

A thousand different angles touching each other and playing on top of each other to say hello to me to open my skin and touch through every bone. And everything I learn leads in to every other tiny fracture of the fissures of my life opening and closing and shaking awake…gliding into knowledge realm. 

Love is a terrifying force. Volcanic ash and tectonic ruble.
The times when we look for answers because logic is not enough. 

My small, scrappy fraction of the earth’s love is so magnificently convoluted with love and pure passion. To love and to be loved is the only thing I live for. Higher and deeper and richer than all else is this love that is breath.

Let it be exhausting.

To trust you again…that is a truly beautiful thing.

I can feel some motion. Tectonic plate motion.

I’d take being a human over anything. Wonder and this gaping hole in my chest over answers. I am human and I am so grateful.

Pound the ground and let its soggy whispers seep satifaction out of your bottomless pit of sanity. I am sane here only because you ask me to be. Only because I know nothing more than my own name and the place you set me down to claim as home. And all I will speak from here to nevermore is yes yes I have the stars now.

Hear your life. 

I want to write poetry not to create poetry but just to get the words out. And I said no, its just for love. Can I separate my heart from my selfish mind. Sigh me out and sliver my sentience back together in the pieces that peace together.

The holy is kept here, right in this box. I remember this perfection. Our arrogance is a nonsense gift.

sweet sapling fire dust rabbit ear sacrificiial heart fuck it up this time this is my time the time for time has no time but other than this fire feet fearless wonder at the stars the stars know me and I am them and we are all together in this onenness that does not become me but surrounds me in its furry grasp its outstretched arms its forceful jab towards the something of everything this robust piece of a dog scratching a sctraching at the center of the universe that spills coffee drops on the firs of barks of leaves the trees they cry out for me and I speak not with tongues but with bodies, with shapes and subtle copies of my sacred soul. My soul is of the dust of earth. The sounds the sounds where do they take me my soul is within this sound.

this creation I believe in it, the actuality of the fermentation of something that is created

but you have nothing more than a little bit of my soul and my soul is everything my soul is present, eternal, memory, thought, wish, dream, creation

the place where divinity gets into me and we conceive of the divine and the divine touches us through our ozone layer of love

and its love its got to lie there in the dust with love and love will hold me in her rapid fire arms and just caress me. Just reach my tender bits and they are all it and this it is in the is.

I am a temporal slice of a continuum of me. Apply the momentary fragments together in cohesion.

At the end of my life I want to say I was an infinite number of things…and they were all love.

Maybe it isn’t even soul. Maybe that isn’t even word enough. There is bottomless me at the end of me. Of you. Of us. I am always here with everything I experience. I can’t get away from my own presence.

I once wanted everything held in my shriveled hand.

And it’s not just my heart. It’s my whole body. Everything is my whole body. This is my whole being and this isn’t even it. It is placeholder and it is all. And it is piece. Part and parcel.

I am a part of the collection of star dust that is Lauren. I am part and parcel of someone infinite. But I am her all in all. I am infinite. But no…what I really am, is a mystery stuck inside a mystery. Moving around, my skin screaming for reunion with another piece of me. Everything’s got a little bit of me because we are all a little bit of the universe.

So what does all this connective tissue…what does that create and what does that mean? Does it have to “do” anything or is it just to create more wonder…more curiosity…and yet do not get locked in any answer. There is no objective truth. This is my freedom. Anything that binds me to an answer I must be skeptical of. Keep breaking open the bandaid over and over and over. Trust what you think you know and what you know you can never know. Let go and let go and let go and hold on just so that you can let go again. Get hurt just so you can forgive. It’s all about a creation of energy and forces. Be wary when your concept of God begins to bind you.

You have never lost yourself. You just have remember. And then you’re there.

I love trailing spice walls of layers of magic dipped around the sugary coating of lacy buildings. Buildings that speak for themselves, that find you within them…their tiny structures capitulating you through yourself, around the corner, abundant with decadent love. Your soul was made for this fire.

I don’t care if God exists in any objective way, or if I could ever know that. All I care about is what Love does to me. What Love rips open, how deeply and honestly I can give love, receive love and shed magic eyes onto everything and every person I see. Something in the universe is working beautiful poetry but I don’t know how and I don’t know why and I respect the mystery enough to let it be. Let it be. Dwindle in magic eyes. Find yourself in love. I look for what I keep coming back to over and over and over no matter where I am, what I have lost, what I am desperate for…and the thing I cannot get rid of with any amount of thought or feeling is Love. Love is the only constant in my life.

I could never fully lose myself. Why is this an absolute goal of enlightenment? Self is such a beautiful gift. Do not cling to it- but cherish it. Do not be afraid of the small part of the universe you have been endowed with. But use this to be humble, gracious and giving.

Here’s to love.

I must be absolutely dripping with diamonds by now, I am almost sure of it. Nothing could quench this icing love that smothers its way in from the stars, I’d like to swear on that. I’d like to believe many lofty things that touch on my shoulders and carry me past myself. Give me your tiny teardrop fears and your carved bowl freedoms and I will slander them.

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