TV: Take-away (real) Vision

Behind the laptop screen a cat wanes over the keyboard and munc432```s the writing sequence while a tired college undergrad sips coffee and scrolls Tumblr for another so-called minute break. Likely. Escapism is almost a necessity when living within the standards of  a modern capitalistic world. "When else would one find the time to gallop about and actually enjoy existence? This isn't your life after all. You're a tool for a functioning society. Color in the lines. Actually, don't color at all. Just stare at the glob of moving pictures on the TV the size of supposed worth." I feel myself begin to swirl into an Orwell novel as if this is unreal. Yet. I am still here. Somehow. Another. A movie. Choose one. The blue pill or red pill. Choose one: living or surviving.

Same Memory + Different Me

12/9/13
She told me she was never wanted to be a priest. Never religious. Never a sheikh. But my sacred monster was her martyr. It drooled red all over my lungs and had me coughing up the truth into my palms until I was caught red-handed. Into palms. Into psalms 3 vs  54. The Bible says that you must not lay with me. In a coffin, I assume. We cannot both fit into the timeline of death in sync. But I still cuddle your ego in the shadow of my dark matter. 95% of the universe is dark matter and you want me to lighten up. Be my sun then turn me on when I'm too tired and turn beautifully red for me when you kiss my waves. Baby, I'll let you sink into me for as ling as you need to.
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7/22/14
We said so much without words that we could start to hear what each breath meant. Wordless. Yet we said so much. That happens quite often, really. How I always say so much without words and they always say something back. I'm re-teaching folks a language they've known for lifetimes. I'm speaking from the code written in our DNA and you're finally replying. I never said that you had a voice that melded into the frequency of a song I dig but I didn't have to. Intuition. Tune-in. The more you listen, the louder it gets, the closer you become to discovering what we have all forgotten.

Remembering: Phase 1b

At the start of summer, I did not forget that the jittery FaceBook posts or vaguely enclosed Twitter rants I simply remembered something more important. I started to notice the fallen trees reclaiming a burnt past like this cycle of life simply belonged to butterflies. It may have. With freedom branching out at every corner, with love making waves across the boundaries between what the world wants and needs. Money may be made out of these growing forest, but it provides more havoc than sustainability can afford from a surplus of this irony. Sprouting trees. Still. They breathe out good and breathe in bad. The biggest hearts in the oldest homes. Birds nestlings flew here once, now they are expanding on other sides of a continent I've never owned enough paper to venture to, but when I write I always have enough paper and I always travel everywhere. It may not look as if I have much, yet I am a bountiful wonder of light and love. I lift my heads to a scorching sun and soak the wine-fine energy to my core. I let myself be and in this moment I am whole. Each moment. I soak it in for all the glory it possesses for I will never have the chance to return here. Sit beneath any tree, share energies and meditate together and write and smile and stop and breathe and stop and breathe and stop and breathe. In. The essence of nature, all the beauty I never seem to care it offers. Out. All the trivial trials of a physical life. At the start of summer of last year. I remembered too little and too much yet I forgot how to be. Now I know better than to let my life cycle mimic anything but pollinating butterflies.