Reading harold_maude's journal

At this moment, things are taking place. Events. Some as small and insignificant as the opening of a flower. And some as momentous as the first breath of a child.

Somewhere. In this moment. Right now. And when this is read again, it doesn't matter at what time, or what day or what year, these very same things somewhere will be happening.

A spirial of cycle that goes on as far as you want to look or not look.

That is the nature of life. Here. Now. Tomorrow.

A single universal moment. Repeated over and over. The music found inside the movment of time.

If you could slow your self down enough that every second seemed a year, what would you learn in that time, and what could you do in that span of time?

If you could preserve a rainbow so that each moloclue of color you could explore fully, what would you precieve? About the world and yourself?

Would it be like watching bubbles as they shift in their nature to finally break before our eyes?

How fragile are the teachers that stay so briefly and then leave us with memories of wonderment. How beautiful thoes moments are. So rare the glass like surface as it turns and bends to the energy with in and with out.
The glass that seperates inner world from the outter world grows tired and looses it's strength.
How much alike we are. The buble and us. Each sucumbing to break through the barriers that keep what's inside from melting into the outside.

What if the only barrier we ever had to break through was fear?
How powerful and possible would our dreams become, knowing that anything is truely possible?

What wisdom would we employ to not abuse the freedom we suddenly gain?
How long would it be before we knew the balance and walked accordingly?

Indeed we are strangers even to ourselves. We don't know so very much, even though we know more than we can grasp.
A strange paradox we find ourselves in.
To go forward too quickly we miss so much, and yet to linger means that we may stay in one place long enough to bring about our demise.

I have tasted singluar moments so perfect that there was no need to say or do anything. And because I didn't want to loose what was going on, I have been almost afraid to move or even breathe.

I've often thought that a moment can encoumpass many changes in seasons.
Moments, it would seem, can pass time completely by.

Pick up a pebble and look closely. What do you see?
A pebble or the mountian it was once part of, or can you see the history of that pebble reading before your eyes?

Watch a drop of rain run down a window. What do you see?
Only a drop of rain? And though it's journey down the glass is beautiful, do you ever ponder where that water has been, or if it was once the tears of someone who had lost or gained something and the event was so powerful that the only responsse was to weep?

An event so small, yet with so many bits of journey and life to it.
A life time could be spent pondering it and still not come to the end of it.
It would and could teach you so many things, because like you, it comes from star stuff.
And that makes you one with it.

We are not alone. We have never been alone, and we won't ever be alone.

Our skin, and our thoughts based on what we've been taught are the only barriers that hold us captive to the feeling that comes that says we are, each of us, alone, inside ourselves.

We are, much of our lives, at constant war with ourselves, arguing some point to shift things around and around and around, as if we are looking for a place to get comfortable in so that we can stay there.

When we experience peace, deep powerful peace, we don't know what it is, as we have no referacne to judge what we are emersed in by.

The world around us will continue and change, inspite of us, and in some cases because of us.

We hold so much possiblity, and yet remain ignorant of who we are.
We resign ourselves to unnessary things, as though they are set in stone, and give up at some point trying to find a way out...

There is so much. And when I go back and read this I don't know if what I can see now will be what I see then.

I live in my own paradox, even as I struggle to break another box.

to be continued...

It only looks that way because your standing on your head.