
whether we like it or not
it seems we have little choice but to return
in adulthood
to the habits taught to us in our youth
if only because they bring womb-like comfort
in an otherwise boundless world
whether we like it or not
it seems we have little choice but to return
in adulthood
to the habits taught to us in our youth
if only because they bring womb-like comfort
in an otherwise boundless world
i get that we need to communicate and share, and lead
but sometimes i just miss being quiet.
there is so much going on when nothing is being said,
so many paths forming, so many ideas becoming concrete
so many particles of being vibrating at just the right
frequency to feel at one with the whole
silence is to speaking as dreaming is to waking
for me at least, it needs to be a regular thing
The view outside is so clear now that we’ve cleaned the windows.
The silence this spare room offers at late hours despite the near-constant sound of tires gripping road, engines conbusting outside, is like the sanctuary of my consciousness despite the constant traffic in my mind.
~
I feel like who we really are cannot be suppressed, even if the environment and circumstances change. Here I am, years later, sitting at the windowsill, writing in this journal and looking out, and in.
I think I’ll always find my windowsill no matter where I go.
May there be many more quiet nights like these.
why do we like some places more than others?
maybe the people in those places
are letting the Light through
~
don’t be a door,
be a window
be strong enough to keep yourself transparent and let the Light filter through you
keep yourself clean and let it pass through
like through a prism, making every colour appear when we see you
Love has made me
and love has effaced
the me that was made,
Leaving behind only that
which can understand
that there is deep meaning in being where one finds themselves
And deeper meaning in being present
to see the light
of a thousand stars twinkling behind a veil of cloud
in the early hours of the night.
some days i am just
a pair of large eyes
gliding through the doorways of my house
waiting for my body to catch up
or re-materialize