Sunday, April 22, 2012

I Don't Know How it Works

I don't know how it works.

But... Sometimes I feel like there are hints, or glimpses into the space where how it works lives. I don't know if I'm right. No idea. I have a feeling that it doesn't matter, really.
Like, when it's been a long time since something. There is part of me that knows that somewhere,
somehow, it hasn't been long at all.

A blink.

A moment.

Spaceless, timeless, everything-full something.

I don't know how it works.

I really, really have no idea.  There was a time that I thought I knew. I was harmlessly taught the truth about it all.  And that was ok. Yet....  I'm pretty confident now, that there is much more to it than the story I was told.  All of us write stories to explain that which we innately experience. All of us, everywhere.

I don't know how it works.

Honestly. I don't, and I don't think anyone else does either, except for the all-knowing, something inside of each and every one of us that whispers hints to our quiet, noisy minds. It's like being given one or two pieces to an eight-million piece jigsaw puzzle.  Or...maybe four pieces.

I don't know how it works.

But sometimes.... all times.... I feel this


I sort of want to call it love, and I think it is, but... I heard recently a quote that said, "The truth is the truth until you name it. Then it becomes a lie." So this something, this thing I want to call love, is ... i think... much much more than a name could ever justify.  I think. But then again....

I don't know how it works.

And still, there is this peace that resides beneath all of the questions and all of the rumors, and all of the fears and stories and threats and wonders and theories and ... all of it.  As if it is maybe the very IS that all of those things are sprouted from.  But I don't know.

I don't know how it works.



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