While the new moon began,
it was already ending.
The clock skipped ahead the moment it started.
What’s more real than a planet?
The moon is physical and trackable,
visible and tangible,
but the way we label and parcel
space and time makes it slip through our fingers
even as we perceive it.
That’s the way we learned to see it.
We’re told it’s over as it’s happening,
a story of forgetting,
thinking the moon is disappearing
when the cycle’s just beginning.
Except in the places where they say,
we’re not measuring time by your system.
We don’t experience the world through your interpretation.
Yet this is the sandbox we’re playing in,
the containers we’re inhabiting,
checking and balancing
when to fight and what we yield to stay within.
I think I’ve lived too long inside a projection,
perhaps it could still happen.
Maybe the limits are an invitation.
You are a resourced human.
And who knows what might open
by relaxing.
Ollytaytambo, the waystation,
between where you’ve been and where you’re going
is this moment
so be present.
don’t miss it.
Inherent in the starting is the finishing.
The fruit of knowledge nobody wants to acknowledge
is that this shit is ancestral,
archetypal, intergenerational.
The path is somatic and sensational.
every member of my family
lives inside me
the one who ruins all the fun, pooping on the party.
Squash the spider, it’s too scary,
somebody save me,
This is who’s supposed to stop the monster?
He's just a big dumb kid, wide-eyed and gangly.
he may be human-sized
but he’s a little baby
who doesn’t even know where he is,
thousand-mile eyes and half-cocked lids.
He’s gonna keep talking until somebody listens.
Even if nobody’s paying attention.
and when he sees he’s not being seen
he retreats into the nautilus again.
A rollin stone does no gathering
stay inside the shell or never stop moving.
catch me if you can.
I’m either so far gone or deep within
you’ll never find a soul worth saving.
And the tiny drama plays inside me
like a baby to the mama
while the whole world’s dying,
solipsistic and denying,
narrow Western mind
endlessly ruminating,
ego conflation, self-inflating.
Our train’s stuck at the station.
but i’m trying
to break out of this frame
I want to be participating.
Something inside
me is afraid to really try
if I take control and still can’t make it happen,
That voice inside me will be winning.
I’ll only have myself to blame,
and can no longer pretend
that it coulda been different.
Ollytaytambo, the waystation,
when you can’t quite get to where you’re going
but you know you’ve been before
and will come back again,
same same but different.
This is Individuation.
The train’s finally leaving the station.
You’re separate, but you’re one of them
a nested network of ecosystems.
You’ve got a universe within
tiny lives inside you interacting.
You do it by yourself,
solo as you’ve never been.
We go alone together into the great unknowing
forgetting and remembering.
When it gets to the end, we’ll start over again
the journey’s never-ending.
It’s okay, just keep returning
including and transcending
remember?
You’re not a human, you’re a happening.
❤️🙏🏼❤️🙏🏼