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Quinoa Blessed
2017

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2011-02-08

The terrifying simplicity of the world we call real

Every day is like an eternity these days.  I don't wear a wrist-watch and so am always precisely on time.  Time manages to encompass vast quantities and qualities of life, and yet the days rush by like leaves that have fallen on a rushing river.  Sometimes people ask me what I have done today and I honestly can't remember.  The last two hours have demanded my attention to such an extent that the preceding ten hours have become like a dream barely remembered.

I woke up with a dream this morning.  I woke up via cellphone alarm during the REM stage of my sleep-cycle and what I had completely accepted as real was readjusted by my logical brain into a distinct, seperate non-reality as the surprising nature of my real reality flooded back.  Yesterday morning I woke up in a soggy tent on the sand and this morning I was suprised to find myself in a warm dry bed in a house with my family.  The fluctuations of time are as dramatic as the drastic and repetitive shifts from day to night to day.

Life is a funny prospect and I don't always believe in it.  Yesterday I saw my beautiful sister and her beautiful children for the first time in 18 months and I thought about all I have experienced and changed since then.  The last home in which I visited my sister was not only 20 months ago but in a different country, across a vast and desolate ocean and yet thanks to the immense power of global connectivity I am sitting in literally the same chair I was there.  Time and space have not impeded my family's ability to retain the same furniture.  So what are these cavernous distances in time or space I have crossed since our last meeting?

I travelled to the other side of the planet and back in that time, fell in love a few times, discovered new and wonderful aspects of myself and my world I could not have conceived of back then.  The world is infinitely more complex and vast and exciting than my previous self would have hoped for.  Now, today, as I attempt to contain the expanse of this simple feeling in my stomach within a series of words, I know for sure that the world is at my feet and beyond my imagination.  Oh well, I'll only contain as much as I can within the collection of words I compose today.  I will try again tomorrow and either encompass more with less words or simply multiply and complexify the collected works of me, my life's work in literature.  If I have anything to offer the world it is my attempt to experience as much as possible and share it in as few words as possible.  If I succeed in this I will assist the universe's task of expanding and contracting all information to a single point, which, I presume, is the end-point of this wonderful thing called the internet.

My sophistication and intelligence are, of course, improving and yet I am still here, my body is as dense as ever though more toned and strong than it was and I am not sure whether I have reached enlightenment yet.  I will keep typing until the voice in my head tells me to stop and choose a title that sums up all the distances my creative mind has taken my fingertips over the last hour I have been writing.  Until then I will accept the strangeness and beauty of my expression and trust that there is someone in the world who will benefit from me being as honest and present as I can and seeking to express the overwhleming complexity of experience of the terrifying simplicity of this world we call real.

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