River Flows

Nothing much here. 63 years, going on 16, still working on opening the flower & finding the sun. How can I see what’s out there with eyes that only turn inward, a mind enmeshed in symbols and blurring out the reality of the mystery lying under the mesh of theories, labels, categories, valuations, stories, doctrines, creeds, politics, the whole dance emanating from that master illusion generator, my brain.

The matrix still has me, but at least I know that reality is out there, in front of me whenever I drop shields, turn off the projectors, and let it in. When I was 4, it was easy to see, directly, the magical world, the mystery we call life, or reality, or that which cannot be named, but now the encrustation of enculturation is so thick that chipping holes through it is no longer easy – simple, but not easy.