Feb 2018
I’m sitting in the dark and the sound of the rain falling is just right and silence settles to whatever volume is current. And as you become increasingly aware it’s like all of the oxygen is ****** out of the world and yet you can still breathe.
The power in that grasp. Glimpse. Moment of ‘being’. An active moment of happening now. The current. And it is so titillating, mesmerizing, and transfixing that you suspend time to really see it. It presents itself in many different ways and oh how truly altering they are.
I love the ones with no talking. No words anywhere for me to hear whether I want to or not. Just colors, sounds, textiles, smells. A unique constantly changing thing.
God I love these moments and I intend to go back but the need to express it overtook long enough to use words to write this. I am now disengaging.
The power in that grasp. Glimpse. Moment of ‘being’. An active moment of happening now. The current. And it is so titillating, mesmerizing, and transfixing that you suspend time to really see it. It presents itself in many different ways and oh how truly altering they are.
I love the ones with no talking. No words anywhere for me to hear whether I want to or not. Just colors, sounds, textiles, smells. A unique constantly changing thing.
God I love these moments and I intend to go back but the need to express it overtook long enough to use words to write this. I am now disengaging.
I like when it’s just noise. Words are distracting because even though I’m not listening directly my mind clicks on in an area of my brain that I wish to let sleep sometimes. Which if you knew me you would understand how ironic that is.
I did not speak until I was three. My grandmother used to tell my mother to “enjoy it now. Once she starts talking she will never shut up.” She was spot on. I used to talk so fast most would assume I was auctioning off cattle. The truth was I was auctioning off presence. Prattling away like a hen.
I am now returning to my original state of verbal silence. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE words but I don’t think in words. I think in pictures of moving senses. I use words to try and describe the current of those senses when I step out of their embrace to shift into a worded mind. It’s exhausting sometimes and exuberant at others but always disengaging from where I prefer to be. That’s not to say I’m a recluse. I am decidedly not but I do like reclusiveness.
Life is so full of so many ‘suits’ to try on and I do love to wear a wide variety but my most preferred is naked. Natural. Wild. Untamed.
I did not speak until I was three. My grandmother used to tell my mother to “enjoy it now. Once she starts talking she will never shut up.” She was spot on. I used to talk so fast most would assume I was auctioning off cattle. The truth was I was auctioning off presence. Prattling away like a hen.
I am now returning to my original state of verbal silence. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE words but I don’t think in words. I think in pictures of moving senses. I use words to try and describe the current of those senses when I step out of their embrace to shift into a worded mind. It’s exhausting sometimes and exuberant at others but always disengaging from where I prefer to be. That’s not to say I’m a recluse. I am decidedly not but I do like reclusiveness.
Life is so full of so many ‘suits’ to try on and I do love to wear a wide variety but my most preferred is naked. Natural. Wild. Untamed.
