Surrealist Mumbo Jumbo

I forgot the importance of fiction. I had forgotten that important messages and lessons can be gleaned in the most unexpected of ways. I've been failing to remember that nothing is inherently good or bad except that thinking makes it so. I've been hesitating, suspended in limbo. I've been limiting myself to rules and regulations, acting like rearranging the furniture on the porch is going to make the inside of the house more organized. I've been selective with which friends I want to be around, failing to remember that when you know how to listen, everyone is the guru. I have not kept in mind that any time I encounter someone, even one I have known for years, I am encountering a new entity. To assume I "know" them is pure foolishness.

I've been worshiping expectations, and worshiping this funk, unwittingly.

I've been puzzling over the order, progress, and speed of things, while completely forgetting that life is not linear. It all happens at once and BOOM, flowers can have eyes. I can dance and sing. I can decide not to be a painter. I can write poems and blog entries that do not make sense and forgo the impulse to go searching for or assigning meaning to them. What I assign does not matter. I AM. I can fear that I'm losing my mind and not care one way or another. I can live a completely ordinary life or make a habit of hitch hiking.

I can stop editing myself, I can START turning that search beam inward. I can also extract answers out of the depths and crevasses of my being and be unafraid of what comes out.

I can unlearn.