March 23rd, 2022
In And Out And Upside-Down It’s All A Mess No Matter What
I was not. And then I was. Birthed out of nothing. A thing of two become one bathed in milky cream from the womb of my mother. Eyes lolling in my head. The tongue a loosed agent like a blind serpent on the head of a gorgon. Wailing into the light. Confused by slashes of illumination and the cacophony of this carousel.
Each to each in their turn a creation of the same machination. Conscripted to a shell chosen by foreign entities. A victim of existence. Of the circumstances of becoming. From the outset lacking the capacity to manage the mess that we make. Soiling ourselves from the beginning only to be cleansed by some other hand. Our exit the mirror image of such a stained relief.
Today marks my 12,775th day on this blue sphere, and I don’t know how to feel about it. I’m only just beginning to understand the messes that I make. Have made. The amount of effort it will take to cleanse them. Within and without. All the things I want to say to those I know. To those I don’t.
The greatest gift I’ve ever received was the truth about myself. To be turned inside out with the help of another being. To see the horrors of the subconscious manifested. Fleshed out. Revealed.
A drift net dragging stories I’ve told myself. Been told. Like stains of the past lingering for far too long. The stench of them turning in the bowels of my being. Souring the present. I look over my shoulder. See the innocence being stripped away moment by moment. The collection of my experiences slowly eroding possibilities of love and connection. Understanding. In glimpses it is revealed, the light bending away as shadows crawl across the surface. I am a reflection of perspectives. From things I’ve heard. From movies. Books. Life. What I’ve seen cannot be unseen. It grows in the mind like a seed and flowers outward into colorful plumes of radiant hues, or curls into something grotesque. Distorted. Deranged. And what is done cannot be undone. But it can change. Metamorphosize. Become beautiful again.
I have vague memories from when I was a child. Only brief flashes of instances seem to spring forth from the recesses of my mind to reveal the makings of me. Photographs that resemble some semblance of bliss. Of perfection. Unbridled joy teeming with light as if I were always an effigy of some nobler clay. Though this is not the truth.
The script has always been written at a slant. Continuity of imperfections made perfectly. Nature’s middle finger.
A symbol of love and laughter. The cosmic giggle. Yes, there is much work to be done. Ideas waiting to manifest. Breathed into existence. Creation is in the blood. And there are more days to accumulate towards my expiration. The end the great equalizer of all mortal statures. Sinner and saint. Pauper or prince. You, me and everyone you see. All of us going out through the same door we entered, one final mess saturated in the seat of our pants.
April 13th, 2022
Nature Is Within And Without. . .Change My Mind
A strange tapestry of light hangs over the western horizon. The sun a white circle of light cauterized through the veiling. Black clouds sweep in from the south that brood with brief flashes of light…
April 6th, 2022
Holy Moments Found In Everyday Life In Omaha
What if days weren’t measured by productivity but by the accumulation of instances we are enraptured within them, like holy lucid moments with the notion that everything connected is set apart for that union…
March 30th, 2022
Meditations During An Existential Emergency In A Midwest Cafe
At Lola’s. Again. Staring out at Dodge and the cars passing like metallic streams of green and grey and red, streams of blue white and black. They pass and disappear past the glass…