Towels are towels not only because we call them such, but also because we make them such.
They visit me in dreams and I reply
because nothing gets me out of here
Please be going.
I am a lampshade
of lost ideas.
Some filter through
and give sight.
That’s all we can ask for.
To see all the light
is to be blinded.
why do you fall away
not on earth or sky
no chance of being found
or seen or heard
only dreamt of
in the space within
my mind with eyes unfocused
you’re always there
a cloud around my senses
and this vagueness
here and nowhere
neither here nor in the other realms
dreams mixed with no real clarity.
Fool them into anarchy
Let all things settle to power’s law
One is lost and one becomes
Structures fall and more are born.
birds fly through no man’s land
searching for branches of peace
for their minds lost long ago
Image taken from https://sites.google.com/site/ad79eruption/pompeii/regio-vii/reg-vii-ins-2/house-of-the-bear?tmpl=%2Fsystem%2Fapp%2Ftemplates%2Fprint%2F&showPrintDialog=1
“How could you think the rain would fall knowingly? It does what it does. It’s a natural process. There’s no spite involved. Stop criticising.”
“You say this of me, but you don’t understand. I want to know how things happen, that’s all. But I know I’ve picked up these critical patterns. It seems to be taught as the way to be strong. I must be judging, always thinking of what’s wrong and right, what should and shouldn’t be. But I wasn’t naturally like this, whatever that means… It came about as an attempt to merge into my surroundings.”
“This self-absorption… we were talking about the rain. Why do you think it would want to harm us? How could you think so badly of it?”
“How could I know what’s in the mind of the rain? It was just a suggestion, or a thought.”
“What’s the difference?”
“I suppose a suggestion could be about you, trying to make you think differently perhaps, while a thought could simply be me expressing my mind with no motive at all of it influencing you. But what I said wasn’t a judgement on the rain.”
“Okay. I see. I just feel one’s interpretations of others’ actions could make all the difference. You know, the world is in ruins. Do you think harm would come about nearly as often if we thought each other’s motives benevolent, or at least as not cruel?”
“I want to be like the rain, if it doesn’t fall knowingly. These endless reactions, all with some kind of choice and of blame, they’re exhausting. I don’t want to think.”
“But is thinking not necessary? We must understand.”
“Does the rain understand?
“Does the rain try to change things? The rain, it just is.”
“Maybe that is the answer.”
“Perhaps a part of the answer.”
A try at writing a dialogue with what came into my head. Nice to do.
In the distant evening
as the songbirds
give their final call,
throw your hat into the lake
Immerse your body
in a cool caress,
of wildness and of stillness,
that’s been here for millennia.
Move yourself in freedom,
or lie beneath the waning sun.
There’s nothing you must be now.
This week’s photo prompt: Typewriter
I write what people tell me, whether that comes from their hearts, souls, minds, or a god above. I don’t know why or what point I’m making.
“We’re all seeking that special person who is right for us. But if you’ve been through enough relationships, you begin to suspect there’s no right person, just different flavors of wrong. Why is this? Because you yourself are wrong in some way, and you seek out partners who are wrong in some complementary way. But it takes a lot of living to grow fully into your own wrongness. And it isn’t until you finally run up against your deepest demons, your unsolvable problems—the ones that make you truly who you are—that we’re ready to find a lifelong mate. Only then do you finally know what you’re looking for. You’re looking for the wrong person. But not just any wrong person: it’s got to be the right wrong person—someone you lovingly gaze upon and think, “This is the problem I want to have.”
I will find that special person who is wrong for me in just the right way.”
― Andrew Boyd, Daily Afflictions: The Agony of Being Connected to Everything in the Universe