We all have to hold something for somebody. We are collectively very busy holding the Net for eachother, for example. In Spanish it would be “el red”; el rojo, red alert, red pill, red pen…. Only writing blue. We need to be blue. A nice Krishna blue. If we can’t hide, though, we will have to trudge on through the hot swamp Indigo in the meantime, under the eerie moonlight, at the foot of the sleeping volcano, snoring loudly, turning over with a belch every now and then. The days of lady madonna blue are gone.
Wrap me around you!
Is what each birthday card should say in the dayspring fountain pen of youth, not:
Love,
your pal,
or
Love,
your supporting family member.
Enough with the love-you, love-myself, love-the-world that tolerates platitudes and prompts which return in cyclical fashion because they can on time’s laid tracks. Time to innovate love! Turn the round table around on yourself to enter a twelve-fold dialogue! Find in these communications the spokes that have led back into your very midst.
Go within and die a little to the soft setting of your heart!
every Christmas card should read, in sparkling letters over an upside-down spreading tree, claiming the earth within the reach of its leafy sensitivity.
In my dream, my mobile phone fell and shattered into smithereens. I paid it little concern. I would survive without one, although I would have to forgo some mod cons which only come by android app. It is a cheaper deal to phone from one than from a land-line. I’d have to give up listening to my audio subscriptions, but I still have an MP3 player with plenty of illegal downloads on it... I don't need Uber (I can drive myself home).
Quite Frankly Free
The whole internet network could cataclysmically come to a halt, as far as I am concerned, in some super solar flare-up, and I’d still be fine. The satellites could spin out of their orbits to crash like kamakazi comets for all the difference it would make to my sense of being. The sub-natural forces could be bound to their sub-terrestrial rockbed and leave me without electricity and generated energy, and I would soldier on, in my cabin in the woods, with the new challenge of logging a tree (which one might I dare ask for their sacrifice? The fallen ones no less home to thousands of families…); and scooping up water in the way its nourishing swirl is preserved instead of flattened out by my nap†. The power to start a fire still mine. The ability to quench my thirst not lost.
It is highly probable I might not even miss my books, returned to commune with the Al(l)one.
They are ultimately only dinnertable conversation pieces really. I’d be having dinner at an altar in my quiet life, and the ritual of reading would take place in the light rather than by it.
But before we come to that stage, I realised, I too, would have to take part in this holding for eachother. So I got ready to slide off my very high horse, over the course of many years, expanding my range of tools to which I would delegate the organisation and execution of my mundane life: from clock-radios, wordprocessors, headphones, navigation sysems, electric toothbrushes, hedge trimmers, routers and their reange extenders, to tablets, laptops, and eventually the smartphone.
For somebody who needs to be in perfect control of all her outlets and incoming streams this phone is a continuous leech on her time, quite simply because her memory is deteriorating (or shifting its focus away from the mundane). How does one train oneself up to be ambidexterous on the phone? My thumbs are quite handy for the most part, but not even the one takes part on the phone, which seems to me best manipulated by the light and non-committal Fingerspitzen Gefühl.
So am I going to replace this smashed up phone of my dreams? Hmmm….I wonder who (what dream-sprite independent fixer of all things by herself) smashed it up in the first place, now I come to think of it. No point getting a new one, if they are going to keep on coming for more trials and tribulations to brighten up their dark nights!
footnotes:
Icelandic hnappur (“button, key”)
?! How did we get to THAT!? Is the mindset modus of “to receive“ the right button to press? The key to every next opening in and opening out to hold out one’s belly with its intuitive space and let a caring pourer pour their blessings in?