Quoth the crow...or was it...
Wasn't there, anyway, always this push toward solitary stasis and immobility?
Didn't I always have some certain secret knowing: alone, alone, alone.
Like the beating of a drum.
There has been some confusion and distraction from the focus of that pounding in the deepness of my soul and now I am reminded so suddenly -
There is this solitary stasis.
Alone.
Reality finds its way consistently into the forefront of all things so that there is nothingness in a frenzied and cluttered kind of way, and where once there were two there is one forever and ever.
Something or nothing has yet - this far - to matter much at all.
How much of us is made up of our state of mind, our perception, our decision to be part of or separate from, our inability to find contentment in this drumming of ours - this constant knowing the truth of it - which is just around the corner.
And so I am with cotton, plastic, glass, and the cool winter air in my lungs.
I had forgotten it.
This is to remember.
Didn't I always have some certain secret knowing: alone, alone, alone.
Like the beating of a drum.
There has been some confusion and distraction from the focus of that pounding in the deepness of my soul and now I am reminded so suddenly -
There is this solitary stasis.
Alone.
Reality finds its way consistently into the forefront of all things so that there is nothingness in a frenzied and cluttered kind of way, and where once there were two there is one forever and ever.
Something or nothing has yet - this far - to matter much at all.
How much of us is made up of our state of mind, our perception, our decision to be part of or separate from, our inability to find contentment in this drumming of ours - this constant knowing the truth of it - which is just around the corner.
And so I am with cotton, plastic, glass, and the cool winter air in my lungs.
I had forgotten it.
This is to remember.