why, i wonder, do i grow stale in a kind of waveform cycle? like the tides i have these stinky low sorts that leave all kinds of findings behind, on the shore, rotting perhaps, stinking perhaps – waiting for those brave adventurers to find the rubbish. but not long after here i come in again to stir things up.
the inbetweens find me floundering like those sad flappy fishes with their half-loved eyes waiting for the next round to find their match. and i know the folly but the cycles seem to happen despite myself.
i do so much better when i exchange with people. when i am free to be me, and they to be they. some things, many things, seem so simple but complicated; wonderfully so- but where you have to caution against overindulging in the view or you find yourself flying about the canyon. when we all get careful is when things get brittle. so much caveat and eggshells. i enjoy when the rhythms find you talking with your head down because you’ve forgotten how it was to be listened to, to have a real conversation that is honest and free, direct and true – and then you look up at some point and realize that there is someone next to you. they arrived at some point and neither of you realized at first that you had already started a miraculous dialogue.
the way i feel about things stretches further than i can explain to myself or others. often i can’t comprehend what i’m feeling, what i see, but at the same time i understand or perhaps i just don’t feel scared by it. unfamiliar stuff that seems to have always been familiar. and i enjoy finding the ways to express that – most importantly though, i enjoy being able to share the journey with others. i just have to remember to speak as well as move my lips.