FreeDump

There are a lot of really great free things. Air, our senses, learning, talking, friendship, walking, pointing at stuff, taking a satisfying poop (outdoors), body heat, interesting rocks, percussive rhythm, story listening, singing, blinking, scratching, etc. etc. etc.

I just listened to a morning guided meditation, which had me feeling like a mountain stream going over a water wheel, powering my own dreams. When I think about my dreams I realize how simple I am - all I truly want is joy and love. Specifics don't interest me. There is something calling me and a meaningful path ahead of me and it hasn't been paved or maintained or lit or recognized by others as a path at all. The only way I see it is when I take a step further into it. How can one plan their route when the end goal is so obscure? When the dream is a feeling? When it is something that requires swift adaptation and effortless compromise? At least I can be organized in thought enough to write in a journal or blog. To hold a job and feed my kids. To maintain friendships and lessen their hardships and eat some tortilla chips with various types of dips - a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips. There's a place for me in the universe and it really doesn't matter what my immediate surroundings think about it - here I am. Not taking up too much space. Not being demanding. What I need comes to me when I actually need it and I used to feel so desperate. What happens when all your life you're regularly told how many hours per month you should feel inclined to share your faith with other humans (and that faith has DETAILS, baby!)? It may be about sacrifice, you tell yourself. Then that's great to hear, because I'm sacrificing a great deal to find the truth about love. I'm not afraid of men or their laws or expectations - I'm not afraid of the women that will support these ideas until death - I'm not afraid of being poor - I'm not afraid of being shunned - I'm not afraid of confrontation - I'm not afraid of thought, especially my own, wonderful thoughts. I was born an anti-cynic. My brain produces its own anti-depressants, it's starting to produce anti-anxiety chemicals too. How many hours a month do I preach now? ALL OF THEM! Hahahahahahahahahahaaha! Did you know that inanimate and dead things aren't jealous of us living things? They're just fine as they are. Trust me. Or don't.

Foe Cuss

It sure is difficult to always remember to have faith, or to remember what that even means. That's what meditation helps me with the most. When I take a moment to stop and realize I require a breath to continue to go on, I start to remember that the air has always been there just when I needed it. So far at least. And my exhalation will benefit some other part of the universe. I've been feeding a lot of bugs lately, massive welts on my elbow with an itch that can't be ignored. What's the point of this discomfort? Perhaps to remember I was a part of something else's life. The itch may last longer than the lifespan of the stupid bug! A small price for me to pay for such a long, rich life of my own. Strip the earth of bugs and it would be uninhabitable for us. No such thing as a "stupid bug" it turns out.

Breathe in, breathe out. A simple and interesting system. Always depending on something else, something else always depending on us. We're responsible whether we want to be or not. Whether we can "handle it" or not. It has become incredibly helpful to remember that no matter how many times I haven't thought about it, took it for granted, even wished it wasn't the case: the next breath was always there.

Ooop, just saw a ladies booty crack at the library.