Shade sweeps over my toes and hair. My hips sway, as I talk low, threading words into sentences, traversing the radio waves to another. Her voice, small and intelligent, vast in her breath of language, is articulate and a joy.
I laugh. I smile. I relate.
Bare skinned-shoulders, hot from the sun, I find relief in the lazy breeze, as I sway and walk and stop to think and collect experience. Why do we get so caught up in right or wrong? So rigid and controlled, always trying to find the permanent key to all things, where nothing else needs to be dealt with, experienced, witnessed, felt.
That’s what we don’t want, isn’t it? Feeling too much of anything perceived as not right, not good, too negative—even a little negative is too much. Unreasonableness, truly. There’s very little right or wrong, good or bad, for all things move the current, some stronger than others.
Sit in a bramble of bushes and wild flowers, beetles and bugs, butterflies and hummingbirds… Higgledly-piggledly, it seems. Intricate and beautiful, surprising and transcendent, all of them, and more.
We are like that, higgledly-piggledly, blundering and bumbling, creating mess while we catalogue and corner our debris, believing if we just keep it tidy or under wraps no one will notice how imperfect we are—just like everyone else. In our scurrying, we miss our beauty and intricacy, our ability to astound and transcend.
We so need to laugh and smile and relate. Seriousness prevails too much and too long most days. We must have each other, always each other, never alone, never unfastened from the universal spirit of “we” and what we can do together that I cannot do alone.
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