Because it’s all about confronting the potential reality of this disturbing concept of romantic polarity, right? Which is so dark you have this almost instant gag reflex. Or at least I do. Old People and Scared People calmly stride the two-way street, Young People and All-Ages Lunatics skip along the lonely highway, me falling in the latter category, and I’m thirty-one so we all know what that means.
Currently struggling with how to live in a sphere where this mutually exclusive duality is constantly implied to be Real.
Who wants that? TELL ME WHO. Actually, don’t tell me, I’m not there yet.
This morning after a night of coconut ice cream-4-dinner fitful sleep, I meditated successfully for the first time and found my spirit-center, which happens to be a circular piece of jungle grass, surrounded by giant tiger lilies, huge magnolia tress hovering above them, with a small path extending from where my butt is sitting on that grass to a strange beach about .25 miles in front of me, all I can see are the waves breaking and the sunlight in my hair. What is this, 1969?