this is what love looks like

you get to imagine it

Blowing My Cover

Peace.

It was the second hardest abstract concept to reconcile when asked to comment on the Quaker testimonies for my child's school application. Why? Peace. The first, more difficult to apply was Equality, which exists in the universe, but not in the actions of men, nor perhaps in the course of nature. Though somehow, those being unseparate, nature is beyond justice, is just.

Peace.

We are all, those of us who enjoy emotional awareness, viscerally present to sways, ups, joys, rivers of beauty, rushing flooding drowning gutters of pain, drifting, aimless, drive, determination, creation and follow thru. And wishing we could crawl back into our mother's arms and cry and be held and be safe. But where is peace in these?

So, like sometimes you will have a query, you might be searching for an answer, and all the wisdom and guidance points to the easiest way, which is Truth, What Is.  And then you might smile a little smile internally and think, I know. I know.

~ * ~

There's more. So like Amy Winehouse. She's dead, right? She don't care. But what'd she do? She EXPRESSED HERSELF, truly. She just sang. She drank. She videoed and got herself all fine looking and created art 'cause she couldn't do anything else. How fine is that.  Right? Like we could all be so lucky.

Okay fuck I gotta get back to work.

ALTLIFE

the blows. rafts. skies they say are dropping poison, and from within. we eat it like it's nectar, so hungry. then they say spit it out. it's killing you. so you gotta take all that shit you've been given and fast, and float. bounce.