Bubbles

Tell me something new. Because I’m starting to think this is just the same song on a different scale. Maybe we need new instruments for this, something more personal. Can we use our own breath against the smoothness of our own bones? Or maybe we’ll find that primordial key in the space between our eyes when we lay perfectly still and naked next to one another.

The first function of mythology is a reconciliation of consciousness to the preconditions of its own existence. And then again like carbonation, we are the bubbles that come from beyond all categories and go beyond all categories but in the meantime they’re on their way up, or at least that’s how they look.

I was saying to Bobby last night, its all grey. We’re just somewhere on the spectrum. Choices we make, and how close they feel to us when we make them. That’s how I know the next step is going to beautiful. I can feel these choices like cellophane against my soul sometimes and other’s, they feel more across the river. I think this has to be my evolution though. Because I’m sure there was a point when I was younger and my choices could be felt like the space between my skin and a distant star. So maybe that’s life: The expanse between us and our choices, or in other words, our external creations that beget each following internal choice. They are the seed to life. And we are the farmer. Maybe our own inner evolution is the condensing of distance between those parts of ourselves, I see this like the charge between atoms and maybe this whole time/space creation is what we’ve done in order to quantify to our souls how much space exists at any moment between the aspects of our individual beings.

Ired flagt helps to arrange these thoughts outside of myself. I just wish sometimes they were chunkier, easier to differentiate the corners of. I could put them in my mouth, one at a time and feel them with my teeth and tongue like tribal people did when discovering something new, like children still do.

It would also be helpful if we had a kind of pyramid with predictable shadows and we could arrange ourselves on the steps, and take out these little symbols from the web of our mind and stack them into the contrast of sunlight.

We’ve just become too dependent on words that emerge. We have come to just trust that lying on our back the tide will move us eventually back to shore. And it will. Eventually. Its just that we can never be sure which shore we’ll end up on and we’ll miss the entire journey along the way if our eyes are closed to the sun and our back is against the water. We’ll just lazy ourselves to be this one shape from beginning to end and if that was the point then why did we come here with the ability of being so flexible?

We must move. Our tongues, our hips, our eyes, and trust and urge the words to tumble from our open mouths and onto the steps of our own pyramid. We must be barefoot. We must urge the light from the sky until we can just trust it will always come. And we must keep shortening the distance of creation. And it is the contraction of time and space and thus creation that will build this trust and it is the trust that will ignite the momentum, and this is life.