Poetry/Prose

Social Studies

photo credit: mine, Koh Samui

photo credit: mine, Koh Samui

The feeling

When it’s right

It’s like being weightless

Energized

Free

When it’s wrong

It’s like a million memos

To the mind

Deciphering

Decoding

Exhausting

When you don’t have to think

You know

When you don’t know

You think

The gut doesn’t think

It knows

And from the moment

I first saw you

Years ago

In dark discos

Darting around

Shiny, yet

Somehow insecure

Worried, frantic

Sorting through crowds

Searching for something

Hiding from something else

I always paused to think

About you

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Poetry/Prose

Secrets from the Projector Room

Image credit: the-guided-meditation-site.com

Image credit: the-guided-meditation-site.com

If you have read my previous two posts, you may know I invented two souls based on observing perfect strangers in Barcelona (as part of a creativity workshop there).

The final related assignment was to imagine what secrets they would tell each other,* as follows:

From the Tattooed “Tough Guy” to the Servant

“What you are doing is fine, so much as you are 100 percent sure that it’s your destiny. If there is any doubt inside you, listen to it.

“Respond to it, and let life into your experience. If a life this way is deeply satisfying and enough, stay in your way, in your occupation … upon that line of railroad tracks.

“Enjoy life–enjoy leading your life. Take pride in yourself, and remember you have nothing to prove.

“Finally, whoever he or she is, makes sure that they love you, I mean really love you.”

From the Servant to the Tattooed Man

“Sir, if I may suggest, find contentment inside your every action. Find reassurance in the path you are upon. Explore the possibility of life being a vast, wide, deep stream.

“Understand that whatever you do is as essential as the Sun is to the Solar System and at the same time as insignificant as the stranger I have never met.

“Embrace this paradox.”

 

*I can see through this exercise the power of projection. Not knowing these people, I have imagined their souls based on my own perspective. Therefore, I could only be projecting things inside myself onto them. All of these thoughts are therefore from my own closet–past lives, imaginations, dreams, impressions, my own unconscious attic!

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Poetry/Prose

Nothing but Time

 

Image credit--"The I of Time" from "Salvador Dali and Julia Childs" on Fashionista 514

Image credit–“The I of Time” from “Salvador Dali and Julia Childs” on Fashionista 514

For those with vision, justice is hardly a steadfast lover–for sure, it is NOT going to come running into your arms.

In reality, justice is more like some random, hot person who walks into a cafe and gives you a knowing nod.

You can’t plan the encounter … and, while it delights, you never needed a whole lot of it anyway … in fact, it was kind of distracting.

Today I realized that trying to be in tight with justice has only caused me continuos displays of disgrace.

Time is a much more trustworthy companion, and as I turn to it–finally noticing its subtle yet striking beauty–I think “aha, now I’m getting somewhere.”

So when you see things that others don’t, state your position and leave them to it. Cuddle up with time.

And when justice traipses past you two making out at the cafe, you can look up, wink, and turn back to your life in progress.

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