In these strange days I can’t help but wonder stranger things I’ve heard it said that life here on this earth is a graduate class for the soul You see, we are not bodies with a soul We are, instead, souls with bodies We have chosen to walk and talk and hurt and love We have made an agreement with Oneness To take a fraction of what we are And condense down into this biological machine called a body We have chosen to leave Oneness to become one Single Alone amongst others who are also alone I can’t help but wonder what we are meant to learn What don’t we already know through our original experience of Oneness Maybe it’s the simple act of experiencing the finite A contrast to already being so familiar with the infinite What an existence we must lead in Oneness To allow us to be so curious that we willingly come to THIS place Full of fear and uncertainty Cruelty and chaos But also kindness and compassion And love Love with all its grit and glamour Its risk and reward How brave are we to give up the infinite NOW of Oneness For the finite uncertainty of Earth time Where those around us that we learn to love and cherish are Too, bound by the limits of a linear existence Where love and loss are the rhythms of life’s tides upon this world Such contrast and contradiction I suppose there’s beauty in it Oh, to be able to know now what I will know after To be able to answer with certainty what it was all for The good and the bad To know how good of a human I was Where I helped Where I hurt Where I healed Will I miss this experience when it’s over Will I choose to return again Will you I think about all of the various mythologies of life and death I think about how more than one thing can be true at once How time and experience is such a strange soup So as the world becomes more and more outlandish As long held collective truths seem on the verge of collapse The undeniable feeling that something new is being birthed Through this terror on the back of a desperate hope I can’t help but ponder stranger things And my place within it all
I am lucky to have cultivated a lush garden of beautiful, meaningful friendships throughout my life. I am luckier, still, to be planted in the deep soil of my friends’ gardens where they shower me in love, and light, and their amazing company. To exist in a well tended garden cultivates a gratitude so profound it can only erupt from me in joyful colors painted with hugs, laughter, and happy tears like sacred rain upon parched earth.
Listening to a physicist waxing poetic In a live stream about theoretical physics, quantum mechanics, Philosophy, US politics, Mandela Effects, and more As he stands in front of the Large Hadron Collider While I drink a perfect cup of coffee and start my Tuesday My soul and my brain are extraordinarily happy
Speaking one’s truth is an act Of rebellion Of reclaiming Of liberation It is stepping into the light After living in the dark for too long It is my story to tell And I will tell it as part of my healing
I am, now, trying to forgive myself for the choices I made while trying to survive For staying long past the expiration date in a relationship that had long been toxic and rotten I deserved bette
“My heart says, ‘I love him,’ and my mind tells me to keep running.”
This is the complex reality that no one can comprehend until they’ve been in it. It tears at my own mind, and I struggle to split one instinct from the other. To compartmentalize these dueling truths so I can continue to protect my peace.
Sometimes, I just want life to come with a full and complete set of instructions. No ambiguity. No need to interpretive dance to the result. Like… Life: paint by numbers edition.
It was a harrowing time for my kind. All we were trying to do was provide food and shelter for our offspring. We would hunt at night. Afraid of the light. Afraid of being seen. Afraid of the death that was sure to come if we were caught. We learned to be fast, but once you were caught, being fast was often not enough.
Our enemy was merciless. They were far fewer in number, but they had superior weaponry. They knew how to set traps for us, and worst of all, they employed the use of chemical agents. A brutal chemical assault devastated our community. It was an all-out extermination. Only those of us with the most protected hiding places survived. My ancestors were some of the lucky few.
Generations were devastated. Food supplies were unreliable as the chemicals contaminated nearly everything we had. We didn’t know what was safe and what wasn’t, and there were many times we had to take our chances and await the results. The truly desperate were often unwitting sacrifices as they ate what they could without concern for the result, figuring that they would die one way of the other so a chance to live until tomorrow was worth the risk of dying today. The days and nights were never void of the screams of the dying.
The time came for me to have my own offspring. Many of my brood were felled by the environmental toxins our enemies spread across the landscape like mines. The stores my ancestors left were exhausted and I could avoid going to hunt no longer. My remaining offspring needed to be fed. I needed to feed.
I waited until the darkest hours. The enemy’s camp was silent and still. There was no better time to take the chance at hunting. I stayed low to the ground and close to cover. I needed to know I could retreat to cover. As I explored the edge of our encampment, I saw a miracle. It was a white canopy of some kind that ranged from the encampment’s edge out into the badlands. We tried to avoid the badlands at all costs. It was too vast and too exposed to risk at any time. Cover meant survival.
I set forth to explore this structure. There was no lore about such a thing. Perhaps it was new. Perhaps more recent generations didn’t have a chance to share this discovery because of the war. Fewer and fewer returned from hunting these days. I saw another of my kind, younger and bolder than I. I watch this cousin move beneath and within this construct. After a considerable amount of time observing, I decided that the risk was minimal and approached the structure with hopes of a swift, rewarding hunt and swift retreat.
Almost as soon as I had entered the foreign space, blinding light flared. I froze as did the other of my kind. The structure disoriented me. I didn’t know which way safety lay in. I could only hold still and hope that the Great Dark would save me. Suddenly, the construct rose up. My kin and I scattered. Terror blinded me as much as the light did. All I could do was run in a chaotic pattern as fast as I could. Where was home? Where was the dark? Something splashed onto my back. It smelled of lemongrass, and immediately struck terror into my being. This is what some of our dying smelled like. I was having more difficulty making my body move where I wanted it to go. More fluid splashed down on me. My kin had already fallen on her back, the death throws underway. If I could only find the dark. I knew I didn’t have much time left, but at least I could die in my beautiful dark. I fell onto my back. I knew there was nothing else for me then. I would not be getting back up. And no one would know my story.
Words Wishes and Wisdom 