Consequences exist.

Don't Kill Me, Love Me.

Naked obscurity is aiding me in self-discovery. I am learning about my needs and desires, a good place to begin. Winnie embraces me without any motive necessarily, and Kate is willing to share even in the midst of my raw intimidation; simple gifts are keeping me afloat when it feels like, whether justified or not, I have a broken heart.

I am a good person am I, being in community supporting those with disabilities? I don't know where I would be without those who I apparently support. I need these friends, and I need their communion.

I used to laugh at this sort of thing in adolescence, as if broken hearts were drama and pain without a cause. Humans are complex, contradictory, and it seems like there IS truth with a capital T, but it is plural rather than singular, Many rather than One. This is not an argument for relativity; it is a statement about truth being a conglomeration of difference. I think unity can be achieved this way.

Until the end of time I will ask questions, confident that there are no answers for me (little me) to attain. Is it possible that the questions are the answers? And that questioning IS the process that deepens our humanity until ultimately details are more sensible and visible, and further, the ability to be present becomes a natural condition for humans to live meaningfully?

I keep getting caught in the gaze of core members, asking me to be with them NOW. A gaze is a request or a demand; immediately the stranger speaks with their eyes, "Don't kill me. Love me." I don't touch the stranger, unless I have one of my public transit encounters...sharing happens there, hugging and crying and gratitude too.

…But when the One follows that gaze, fingers your vulnerabilities, asks for your assurance beyond immediate and necessary encounters in otherness, here your emotional safety walks the plank.

I once read that intimacy by kiss is dangerous…you risk a bite.

I don't know who has done the biting this time.

My Puzzle Piece

A faculty of lack implicates me,
declaring itself the 'isness' of now.
Empty Visions lead me astray
as the ideas that were forced to percolate
are sheeted like old furniture protected, gone unused.
Now without authority, my identity as lacking
hovers like sunbirds eating from tobacco tree flowers;
not stimulating my freedom, but imprisoning it.

I am mid home,
but my absence is close.
I am not singular; I hinge upon you for who.
I am rooted in my image, alienated from the real.
Know that you can take me, and that you will.
You won't stop because I am a function,
Your Function, the what of the who for you.

about accuracy.

i'm busy now. don't tell me I am not. i am making progress, my heels are clicking. i simply cannot understand people. sorry sorry. I can hear a collective lost house for you to buy. society is clashing with the bass. back bake. don't stop organizing yourself, take the parts, deconstruct before the reconstruct, for you are something that the whole world is sadly deceived by; our real life. shhh shhh...no better than a culture for timber, history for relationship. if you sew one finger to the other, nothing more will be completed. fable, for me. close your eyes not because it will balk like a mean chicken, but because the stranger was thrilled, thrilled at the way she moved her hips, her tight braids. easter basket and easter bunny and basket and dyed straw that talked when it wanted to and bowl stood a while in thought about wooden spoon used for balance and repetition. i'm being accurate.

Internal Angst of Being Human

1. Death. A tension between our awareness of our pending death and our wish for continued consciousness.

2. Freedom. A clash between our desire for objective and external guidance in the choices of life and our awareness that ultimately we have to make choices on less than rational grounds.

3. Disaffection. There is a collision between the collectivist demands for conformity and the everyday reality of social rituals used to cover up selfishness and deep down lack of concern for others.

4. Isolation. There is a mismatch between our awareness of solitariness and our human desire for contact and protection (we want to avoid loneliness and be a part of the bigger whole).

5. There is a conflict between our desire for unique self-assertion and control, and a need for human love and friendships.

6. Self-deception. There is disparity between our imaginative and self serving self-concept and the more detached and accurate reports of others (prompts us to patch up apparent flaws and inconsistencies with a network of excuses and fabrications).

7. Meaninglessness. Along with a growing scientific understanding of cosmology, there comes a dilemma in our meaning seeking; an awakening in the middle of nowhere in a universe that has no apparent purpose or meaning that we know.

Desire often arises at the most inaccessible moments.

Squirrel Attack, people.

I will stop walking to watch squirrels closely. This is a habit. I have a habit. I like looking them in the eyes, asking them "how do you do?" Usually, squirrels who catch the likes of my eye are sporadic, unusually indecisive even for a squirrel. As I'm watching though, I grow more and more frightened by the idea that squirrel will attack me, and this is always how my instance with squirrel moves along:

a) I see a squirrel. It is behaving oddly.
b) How do you do, squirrel? We have a time, a moment.
c) I become especially fond of squirrel because he behaves oddly.
d) Squirrel hops towards me a little, tells me "I'm going to attack you."
d) Fear (what the heck is with this talking squirrel?)
e) I envision the squirrel biting off my face, I'm unable to tear it away! Or it bites a part of my clothing and I try and try to shake it off, but i can't and I can feel squirrel biting and scratching my skin and I'm really scared.
f) I run away, I run away real fast.

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