416. September 21st…Reality…will return in 20 minutes…..

“The Real Wizard” 2010

“I have become death, the destroyer of worlds.” – J. Robert Oppenheimer

sometimes what appears….is nothing close to what it really is…..maybe it’s the make-up or the mask or maybe it looked like a cat when it crossed the road in the headlights….yet was a black trash bag….so was it a cat…or is it a trash bag….maybe it is/was both at the same time….today feels like a day of many folds….much like Damascus steel…long before it is hammered out….and polished….where the beauty and cross section has not yet been reveled…but is hidden well beneath the surface…and the crust of the metal…..

as a change in season creeps….so does a deep desire to change along with it…… maybe plant myself thin atop the surface….pull everything in a little tighter….talk less and listen more…..make the things in my life….beautiful…those that just need the wrapper removed to reveal…..the tree to the west of my house is dumping it’s fruit into my backyard…a sure sign things are moving another direction and moving quickly…..yet not quick enough to make notice….each second or even every minute….

somedays I don’t now what is real or not….and I’ve given up questioning the reality of it’s authenticity….it is real no matter what….at least for that time…..as the questions…sort of add fragility to the equation…and make it all like an ice crystal on the window….forgetting any thoughts of the future…or plans…..or what it might become…rather seeing it…for what it is…..taking my mental Polaroid snapshot….and filing it away for…another time…another recall…another ice crystal to remind me….that I’ve done something kind of like this…but not even close to this….so the experience becomes a brand new series of familiarity…. contradiction… synonymous….removed and full of the unfamiliar with the slight fragrance of baking bread……that reminds me of days when I was six……so how do I explain any of that….

it is a way of doing it all that allows me to keep getting to where I belong…..not questioning the small little lines that twist and turn…go different directions….and end up under some huge boulder…..rather….it’s the big pieces of the rope….the ones that tie me…secure me…..that I chose to struggle against….and maybe because I don’t understand…..or want to know…..or feel that a life of smaller threads….gives me much more than anything else…..and I can put them away….in my pocket…..walk and whistle at the same time….comb my hair to the right….dream those night time dreams where it all is smooth and clear…..or think of those days….I’d prefer not to be me……but instead….

the Wizard of Oz…..

“Attachment is the great fabricator of illusions; reality can be attained only by someone who is detached.” – Simone Weil

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