Folk #1: Funny. A very good sleep last night. No dreams that I can remember. Just a deep submersion into silence, quiet, darkness. Very refreshing.
What am thinking about as I type this morning? I am thinking about the arbitrary nature of our existence. Random. Incidental. Accidental. Shaky. Winding. Circular. Evolving. Devolving.
Doors, open & closed.
All the experiences that make a mark on our consciousness. The trauma & drama of having, and being being aware of, having a body.
We construct a narrative arc. We piece together the all of the signs & wonders. We perceive and decide.
We tell the stories. We dream the dreams. We crash & burn on the shoals of reality. We modify and draw conclusions. And then we often tear those conclusions up and try on some others. We modify our appearance, our clothes, our attitudes, our opinions. We try to draw a few lines in the sand to stand upon. They slowly vanish under assault from the waves & the breeze & the arbitrary vicissitudes of a well-earned life.