A productive insanity
Where I can feel the rain drop on each nerve under each hair in my arm
Where the metallic smell of earth has history which can pass over me and allow me to see great meaning
When I turn to look at someone in the face
And know its real
Know this all
It's all real.
Lessons from Wonderland
The more clarity i get about life and this wild world over time
The more I realize soberly that I live in wonderland, with scale distorted, frustrating tunnels, terrible creatures and incredible luck in fantastical games.
And then there is the physical wonderland: huge, foreboding, amazing, scintillating. It teems with song and life and struggle and personality and a million nonsensical stories that create our customs.
We are beings, trapped in another part of the forest or jungle or ocean, desperate to find each other, conflicted with our realities, unsatisfied in pursuit of something, but exhilarated at the hilarity of those we get so lucky to intersect.
Life is colorful, the world teems: lessons are everywhere; patience a virtue but only mobility and curiosity are rewarded.
Deceit and grotesque form can be won over with simpathy and humor.
Structures that become unsupportable - which you grow out of, or become too tiny to reach - are constant; we constantly shift in scale and size and importance; this is the form the soul takes.
We don't know if our dreams form our reality, or if from reality we form dreams; our relationships, achievements, and even our senses are dependent on this co-existence.
