There IS a floor under my feet as I type these words, but that’s the only thing I know for sure. And actually, I don’t really know THAT or anything else. The discomfort in a complete lack of foundation, well, it gets a little easier every time the building collapses. But there’s that moment, that phase, when it ALL changes and you reach for anything to brace yourself. Nothing to hold, and so the sooner you realize you’ve been sucked through another warp, the sooner you find pleasure in the trip.
I personally can’t do it without pen and paper, but those are my devices, in this life, and I’m quite sure, in many others. Lives, perspectives, aren’t they the same thing? Mingling the ideas of myself and myselves, all of us working together somehow under the same umbrella, not recognizing each other in every moment, but sensing, feeling for the connection. That’s where the love is, the support, the end to that lonely, abandoned feeling some of us have here on this planet.
Course, that’s just another story we tell ourselves. The excruciatingly exquisite part of the order is not knowing exactly how or when the dots line up, or what shape they’ll create. Honestly, had I known years ago I’d be digging down this particular rabbit hole my entire life, I’m not sure I’d have gone ahead with it. But here I am, in this cozy den inside a black hole, inside a black hole, inside a black hole, that opens on the other side and sends me up and down the chutes and ladders of my existence.
For what? I don’t know. But I’m obsessed with the feeling, an addict I guess. So sure of myself in another light, where I just KNOW the point, whatever it is. Seems to me, as a group of humans, we may never arrive anywhere together, but how smart we are to understand the game on some level deep enough to keep it going. For now. Until it ALL changes.
