Even the most erratic person isn't. Isn't there a periodicity about any of us? Anyone catches sleep. The seasons catch us cold, allergic, bundling up, seeking shade. Bodies produce hot, new bodies, and those bodies stop, get cold again, disassemble.
Sleep dissembles death. We lie quiet and unaware, asleep, but our dreams work through. Awake, the dreammind, like the moon, shines unseen, overshone by the day, the conscious. Our work, by day, tries its small achievements, tries to peak with a victory, overswagger enough to be noticed, but bow low enough to be no target.
Our greatest somatic moments, the ones where our confidence and self-imposed strife pushes us the most -- giving birth, defending assault, orgasm -- strain us, demand of the body, risk the body, seek to find a limit.
Living is the test. Courage dares life, presses for release or an attainment of 'loss'. Nirvana symbolizes overstretched elasticity, ultimate re-lax. To be caught back in the struggle means refinding the identity whose purpose is yet again meant to climb the rock face and have nothing but below.
Friday 55 December 15 2017
6 hours ago