i was born here, 30 years ago when the seasons had 4 separate and distinct comings and goings...now we just have cold & not cold.
thanks to the climatechange we've worked so hard to support- (however ignorant we claim to be in that- truth is truth in the story of sustainability.
canada day = not cold; and i revel in the perfect comfort of a backyard hammock- suspended from the roving ants beneath, whose presence floods the ground as if they were troops assembling for battle; in reality though they are simply living their ant-lives.
amazing how life whirrs by as we soundlessly take for granted the beauty of its absolute uncertainty.
its brevity is sobering in the wee hours of midlife- though i never imagined i would even reach 20.
i recall those days, early in self-imposed exile from nourishment, when i thought self-deprication was oh-so sexy, its broody arduousness casting a mysterious shadow of charisma.
i've since learned- over and over, year after year, day after day, moment after moment- that once we let go of shame-- we no longer feel such compulsion to destruct.
sexiness is in the ability to accept. unconditionally.
articulation is always so much easier than execution though... and while the knowledge feeds like an IV drip, somehow, its so simple to ignore- take for granted, to allocate attention elsewhere.
...must be the rush of learning lessons that hit like a car wreck? ...like a needle to the vein of understanding... but is it overwhelm that is craved, or simply pain?
are we addicted to tragedy?
am i?
is it avoidance of the grey area- ( as an abhorrent purgatory where i may bide time striving for nothingness) or is it the fierce feeling of waking up wild- like an unbound protagonist in the arc of my plot?
i seek not for an answer but for a simple appreciation, as in: knowing my fate is not held by an answer.
as life unfolds each moment, and im untold each instance...
led down some great stretch of unmarked highway, signless terrain,
w/no map or app to navigate what is real- i become that much closer to discovering grace.
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collective reckoning, forsaken beckoning is the reality we create ever experience-able by any other than ourselves through our own eyes an...
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& you needed me to cease briefly the repeating of the loop of thought that makes you mad. that traverses you through nights of listless... -
do i inspire restlessness or is this restlessness simply a manifestation of a fiery drive seeking an outlet to focus on, to burn into slow ...
