Connections Crossing

Life: the waking dream that hazes between points of rest. Each moment is taking place in an external world that my inner world just made up based on that same external world made up by everyones’ own inner world. I dream so vivid that times asleep become more real than the day to day.

I keep searching for truth and on the way I often fancy the notion I’ve found some. We make our own truth and it only becomes more and more apparent as we trust what our senses tell us. Our senses hear what others chose to feed us. Even as we accept it as reality, we know that deep down we’re victims of everyone’s filter, especially our own. We experience a reflection of a reflection spiraling off into eternity, so we may as well be blind.

I’m bound to this world the same as everyone else. Sometimes I get notions of how really lost and alone we all are as a whole who shares the same wants. Humanity, the race of contradictions, struggles to see behind the masks of one another. When I look at you, I try to see past our posturing and learned responses.

Connection crosses us so easily and is severed with the slightest touch. As we’re all seeking it as savagely as we pull away from one another, it’s a wonder we survive.

You Never Really Know

firework
First rule of life:

You never really know.

You think you know yourself, your friends, what you’ll do today, tomorrow, even next week. You think you know that you will never do something or that you’ll eventually accomplish that one thing that you’re sure you will get done before you roll over into the next world.

We assume all the time. It’s not just for asses.

We assume the floor will be underneath us when we roll out of bed in the morning.

And sometimes, it’s not. Sometimes, there’s not even a bed to roll out of.

I try to take this knowledge and with it appreciate all the times something does work out, go as planned, or just doesn’t go horribly wrong. I try to be thankful when I do have a bed to roll out of.

It’s a mantra. At least this. It could be worse that.

Bad memories are also mantras. All the worries and should haves tend to repeat, chanting in my head.

There are things I arm myself with in anticipation of a time when I lose sight of the way life is. So, I arm myself:

Swallow whole your whole self.
Every part is a piece.
Be yourself at peace.
Be content with being
the being who strives.
Against identity,
we strive to embody eternity,
when all we can be is now.