I am cold in my house, and that means the next season, the season of Cold is upon us here on Earth. Here now, in the Golden Dawn of every Next and Now called The Beginning of Everything in time next to the Sun. (We aren’t under the sun only. We are next to the sun always, just the same as under. Think about it. What if we are above It and its light is just beaming up from below?) We’re only really positioned in space and time in such a way we can only understand…
I am a matured and interesting New Bird and Branch of Life. Always dividing (fractal).
I don’t indulge in more of what I could/should. I don’t understand one who anything about it, neither the how nor what or why of how this all works. I know better than to spend my time worrying about it (though I’m still working on that – which is the same practice as “letting go”. It’s ok to spend my life working on it, but if I could venture out more, it could be better. More fun. There is a difference, and that’s a good lesson to remember.
I still have the dead flowers on the table. I know how to admire what has passed since and is never gone. It’s true, the whole thing just sort of folds into itself; growing, evolving, changing, dying, morphing, then branching off into two points of wholeness, surrounded by consciousness. It’s a whole thing.
I have adored my table of late. The dead and the reviving. Nothing dying – only in between. I have very much enjoyed it and wish I could share it with more people – the feelings and the vignette of experience.
Flowers are dead at what point of being plucked off the vine?
We are innocent and wonderful. We are the innocent beasts, the pets of angels. Doomed to die, blessed to live, tormented by it all. You can not not affect reality. You, one, anyone, affect reality. You simply do so, just via your existence as you spring forward, like an arrow, through time. The reaction of the world is proof of your effective existence. Each person draws forward what they perceive to be the best choice. But, “the best” is always 100% subjective. Don’t ever stop. I don’t think we do ever stop.
I’m obsessed with the objects in my house and how light (both natural and artificial) plays on them. I take a ton of pictures of just these spaces, and these objects. Somehow it is as if my house is filled by…I don’t know…I think maybe anyone can see it? They are images that I think will always represent some particular space and time, including all complications.
I’m thinking I want to open a business being a back-scratcher. Like, back-scritchies. I’d be like a hooker, but no sex – only scritchies and scratching. I could get fake nails I would sterilize like tools after each session. The person could just watch a movie or just lay there or sit there or whatever and afterward I’d say “how was it” and he/she’d say “you nailed it” and we’d both laugh and I’d say “ok, that was good, here’s a free rim-job” and they’d say “I’m a cop and you’re under arrest” and I’d say “but it’s for free, I’m doing it as a good samaritan”, and they’d say “just kidding, I’m not a cop, and if I were, you’re too cute-icle to go to jail”. We’d both laugh and I’d say “See you next time, Pepe”. And he’d wink and say “until we meet again, Jen Crow”. And then to his/her shock, I’d turn into a crow and fly out the window, soaring above the power lines, wondering if sushi sounds good, listening to the whoosh of traffic – thinking about stuff like that.
I love how the table has changed. It was a delight to pay attention to, to focus on its changing beauty. It’s life and death.
I am an interesting person. This existence is beyond us.
We 100% have ourselves, some of the time and we don’t control when. Sometimes we have to do running jumps.