There is something in the air. It’s the harvest moon. It’s been an odd last few weeks. Things are changing, and I’m really digging it.
Last night, the loft party I had intended to go to was cut short by me being really fucking tired and crabby from the night before. I decided to load up on french fries and go to bed. I slept through the entire night. I slept so hard that Mori screaming and my dog barking didn’t even wake me up. A centipede had apparently crawled across her stomach at some point in the night. My dog attempted to save her from it.
I’m sitting here on the floor doing an open house, my other part time job. I’m watching the clouds; these ominous looking clouds that float by the widow. They are heading east where they will dump their weight somewhere over Lake Michigan, letting go of miles of excess baggage they have been carrying around for way too long. They will spend a day, or so, releasing the stored mess, and return to another image, another self, constantly effacing the other version of what they once were.
It seems that there is always something pushing them along, keeping them moving, a silent energy. I’d like to imagine that instead of being pushed, however, they are being beckoned. Someone on the other end of the earth entices them and moves them to change, pulling them closer. Their journey being a combination of ups and downs, heavy points and light points, and in the end they just dissipate.
This to me is almost a metaphor to how I feel about our lives and/or about spirituality (I hate that word for what it connotes, but I have nothing else to use). We are constantly changing and redefining ourselves; we are always changing form, in a figurative sense. It seems as if some internal force is pushing us, we may not realize that we are also being delicately pulled by something stronger. We have moments where we release much needed baggage, we unload it upon others in a storm of fury and bottled up emotions. We become still for a brief period where we let go only to be filled again by unneeded drama. So around and around we go, in circles. We repeat and repeat and repeat. Such a vicious cycle.
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