an eightball where my heart used to be
somebody asked me what I thought about:
how everything I see is me, the people that I see are parts of me that I'm just not used to being aware of. Even "I" am only a part of the real me, the real me is everything. Including you. We are all one giant thing.
I'm also increasingly aware of auras and I think about that alot. Every day I get better at intuiting them. I can tell when my roomates are upset before I even realise that they're home. I think about how we are dying every day, but in that way death is life. our cells are born and die every day...I don't remember having a one year old body, but I know that I did, and someday I won't remember having this one. It slips away a little every day, that's growth. Even our memories fade and die to make room for new areas of thought. I think about how trying to hold on to the past is a waste of time, and how time is a waste of time. I think about how much of myself is tied up into the name "I" was given once upon a time. I am not who I used to be and yet this name follows me everywhere. It sounds different to me every day and that's good enough for growth I supose. I think about time and the lack thereof. I think about why I would have decided to create so many different things that evolve and struggle for so long only to get back to unity. Maybe I got bored with myself. Maybe we're all here because everything, when it was one, decided that one was too lonely and had a desire to desire things. I think about everything.
how everything I see is me, the people that I see are parts of me that I'm just not used to being aware of. Even "I" am only a part of the real me, the real me is everything. Including you. We are all one giant thing.
I'm also increasingly aware of auras and I think about that alot. Every day I get better at intuiting them. I can tell when my roomates are upset before I even realise that they're home. I think about how we are dying every day, but in that way death is life. our cells are born and die every day...I don't remember having a one year old body, but I know that I did, and someday I won't remember having this one. It slips away a little every day, that's growth. Even our memories fade and die to make room for new areas of thought. I think about how trying to hold on to the past is a waste of time, and how time is a waste of time. I think about how much of myself is tied up into the name "I" was given once upon a time. I am not who I used to be and yet this name follows me everywhere. It sounds different to me every day and that's good enough for growth I supose. I think about time and the lack thereof. I think about why I would have decided to create so many different things that evolve and struggle for so long only to get back to unity. Maybe I got bored with myself. Maybe we're all here because everything, when it was one, decided that one was too lonely and had a desire to desire things. I think about everything.