What if I didn’t feel that the golden thread that runs through me too, runs through everything? What if I didn’t have the experience, over and over, that when I run along the knife edge of each part of myself, I also sit complete somewhere, watching myself running along the knife edge, but that this is the opposite of dualism?
What would I do, how would I be, if I thought that my collapsing in, my crinkling, my shattering so that ouch, I have lost myself again, had nothing to connect to, on days like this when I am so totally out of place?
What if all of that experience runs inward so that I feel whole and hale and hearty on the inside while outwardly I’m bitter and twisting like an ivy vine around my own trunk?
I would mistake one part of me then for the whole. I would become a totaliitarian and then I would be truly lost.
Far better then to collapse into myself like a whole entity, like a brightstar coated in dark crusty shit, hidden, valuable, whole.
What if I hadn’t been in love with paradox forever and its saving grace but now that I find it is the soup of the world it is too much, too much, too much?
What if we were able to speak of golden threads and wholeness without the threads warping from our global mind’s pre-conceptions?
What if there is nothing beyond this chaos but more control?