“I have come to believe over and over again that what is most important to me must be spoken, made verbal and shared, even at the risk of having it bruised or misunderstood.” — Audre Lorde
I realize that I am woefully behind on reading meaningful things. I intend to address it; see it made right. Likely I will use the time I have been trying to spend on the rapidly deflating notion of “being social”, particularly as I am finding that it, like so much of life, is an illusory excuse for making a lot of noise without really saying much of anything.
Also, tonight, I am reminded that there is no pocket of aliens on this planet. More importantly, albeit paradoxically, that every human being “out there” (outside my head) has a rough approximation of my thoughts running around their heads and that, at the end of the day, we all lay down to sleep hoping that we will wake tomorrow and that, on top of it (as only humans can manage to so ridiculously request), tomorrow will “be better” in some readily identifiable way.
It occurs to me that I am so happy that I could pop. It occurs to me that I am so sad that I could keel over. It is, of course, the silly stutter of the movement between the two from moment to moment that looks like walking through life. We all do it and, for some odd reason, we all think everyone else does it better. Fascinating.
It is rather obvious that there are many things I will not do in this life. I think the saddest realization that I have ever had was the one where that changed from a question to a statement. The invisible flipping of “it”, “is”, and a shift in punctuation. I wish I could pinpoint when it happened, but that’s only idle curiosity. I decide (conveniently) that it is ok so long as what I do, I do well. Then, of course, comes the various whispers that would ask all the questions in relation to that statement that I’m too tired of not having answers to give my attention.
If there is a difference, it is only that I pay attention to any of these thoughts or, in any way, think they might be common enough to wring a reaction from someone other than myself. Arrogance? Ego?
Yes. No. Neither. Both.
Now I lay me down to sleep
Send these thoughts to slumber’s keep
If I should cry before I wake
In dreams, perhaps flowers do tears make
Goodnight, World.