Shade sweeps across my toes and hair as my hips sway. I talk low, threading words into sentences, traversing the wireless 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. Stopping to think and collect my experience, I wonder why we get caught up in right and wrong? So rigid and controlled, always trying to find the permanent key to all things, where nothing is 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 little that is right or wrong, good or bad, for all things move the current, some stronger than others.
Sit in a bramble of bushes and wildflowers, 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 a mess while we catalog and corner our debris, believing if we keep it tidy or under wraps, no one will notice how imperfect we are. In our scurrying, we miss our beauty and intricacy, our ability to astound and transcend.
We need to laugh, 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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