can always tell when i’ve been without sleep too long. i start typing words backwards (sleep was typed seelp) and the odd thoughts punch through. this, a reply to a friend elsewhere, placed here for further consideration…. after seelp. *chuckle*
I’m still resisting delighting in the ache–I run and hide and come back to it like a dog licking a wound.
a lost friend once said to me, ‘as you need, do.’ it seemed wise. perhaps it is.
But you are like a mirror and suddenly I see myself returned across the inky page.
we’re all mirrors. reflecting one another to the vanishing point and trying to pretend we do not see anything other than ourselves. glimpses like sunlight through magnifying glass, frying our earthworm being to the sidewalk. ever notice how the worms rise to the surface when it rains? they care not for more than that there is relief in moisture. sometimes i wish i could be as wise as a worm.
i used to ponder as a child if we were all reflections of one another, trapped in various stages of becoming. that was, of course, long before i found the Dharma. but i think about it, now and then, and find a certain comfort in how those thoughts put my feet on the path before i even knew the path existed.
i am nothing. but i am also you. ache. slake. break. take. make. flake of snow… shift and drift, spin and shudder, wind blowing me into another… and another… clumpy, slushy, connection, meeting the ground, melting into moisture, sinking, reaching the water table, rushing, rising, drifting through cotton candy clouds until, ponderous and surly, the storm, returning yet again… wriggling wormy welcome, coming home… until the river dries, until the seas are empty, until the ocean is undone, until all awaken.
am i then, a mirror? if so, look deeply… until you see yourself… in me… and so silken the strand that is you/me/we/all that the thought of glass and mercury, or of silvery layers of apartness dissolve and you, like me, become the rain.
(so you are probably not a psychoanalyst.)
ever heard the definition of a freudian slip? it’s when you say one thing, but mean your mother. (grin)
time for sleep. be well. (smile)