love
Long walks with the bean are making life feel not just bearable or tolerable, but beautiful.
Shannon died. She's back to where she started from, though she was really there all along. We all are. We just are. Always.
Nature is forever in a state of flux in that sometimes matter comes together to form a consciousness. It's random and beautiful. I feel it's a blessing to have been gifted my set of brain matter; my consciousness. And I was blessed to have my brain matter meet Shannon's.
Shannon's consciousness was especially lovely and far too temporary for anyone's liking except possibly her own.
My brain is getting sidetracked; thinking of Shannon's nature and how she reminds me of Starbuck from Ronald Moore's Battlestar Galactica.
And the end, and how it upset me.
The parallel is there and those who know me well and my love of sci-fi with a philosophical bent, know that this isn't making light Shannon's life, death, or my love for her.
So, the walks with the bean...
I sing to her softly until she falls asleep and slumps against my chest. Her ear against my heartbeat.
Violet's consciousness is fresh. At one point the matter that makes up her little noggin, was decomposed leaves, maybe a coffee bean, or a drop of water from a cloud. Those things are plentiful in the Pacific Northwest.
All of her ideas are new and growing more complex by the minute, hour, and day.
Once upon a time Shannon's brain was the same. And mine. And everyone's.
Now Shannon's consciousness is one with the plants yet again. As mine will be one day, and even Violet's.
Our brains are ephemeral flames.
The concept is hard for me to handle sometimes, especially in winter, though ultimately it's what I find the most solace in and where I put my faith.
My consciousness met and loved Shannon's.
The blooming flowers and budding leaves each remind me of the renewal of all things. The random assortment of nature.
And how blessed we are to experience consciousness no matter how fleeting.
