Twilight Muse
She nudged me from my dream and started talking, and I had no choice but to engage, and just like that, a lengthy internal dialogue ensued.
No, no, you’re right, all that crap in those books doesn’t help. Don’t get me wrong, a lot of it is interesting but when the time comes to understand, to grow, to take it all in and transform, the experience becomes organic. Everything moves with each inhalation and exhalation, and once the shaking ceases, colors are brighter, sounds seem more sublime, the molecules are more densely pixelated, and sometimes they shimmer.
Sometimes you behave as if nothing miraculous has occurred. This life you have chosen, not viewed as a movie — scenes passing by on a screen with you having little to no influence. I know! Your talking about patterns of behavior and suggesting that I perceive patterns that are harmful, not, helpful and change or end them. I have thought about this, you know.
What amazes me is the organic part, don’t snigger at my term, it helps me feel my way through because of the head, that intellect gets in the way. Life, a life force moves within us, it becomes visible when looked for and active with the slightest acknowledgment. The heart, associated with feelings can bring together that which seem opposed. The gross and subtle, the callous and sublime, consciousness precipitated with that which remains unadulterated.
The Muse closes her eyes, and I feel a warm, humid breeze on my back. Behind the Muse, the distant hills grow dark from an approaching storm. I realize that the soft tap, tap, tapping are raindrops hitting the skylight and I left the car windows open.
