Starting from here. The scent of something spicy on the floor. Fractured. Refracted. Overlay. The I that says I and says I and says I and gets never before the saying. Standing on no horizon. What if it looks like this? Interstitial. Anything else is already gone, deliberately, necessarily. What, you want to hear that joke again? In between the lines is the way for you to move. Ahead or backwards doesn’t matter. Neither reach their destination. Like as if that were the point of it. There is never any point that is not irreducible. Only in your way of making anything you do make sense, because the fact that it does not make any sense, is the space that lets you see and hear to start with.
There is moving through a room. There is never moving through a room. There is only moving when you’re dreaming. Because then you do not see the steps. There’s the feeling, but the dream is stronger. When you’re in the dream, then you’re really gone somewhere. I’ve heard that it is better if you’re here. It depends on the perspective. Think about how difficult it is for anything that’s new for you to do, for it to be a thing that’s natural for you to do.
You know that they have drawn the maps. They have put the numbers on the doors. They have made it easier for anybody to remember what their lines are. That’s the comfort that’s uncomfortable.
Anytime you give it up, it lays its blessings on you.