random

Like the snow she had seen early this morning, untouched and pretty, she starts with this blank canvas. No need for correct grammatical use of past, present, future, it’s all the same here. Not sure what to write, she watches curiously as her fingers work gracefully and without hesitation to write what she assumes her mind is telling them to write. But why then, are they moving faster than her mind? No conscious thought, that is, no interpretation. She realizes that with our incessant interpretation of what is, we destroy ourselves. What is there? There really is nothing.



The ultimate in challenges lies ahead, always, now that she knows this she cannot ignore it and cannot fear it. How to live in this culture that is so alien to natural patterns of existence and stay true to ones natural self? To simplify herself as the world around her engages itself in a blindfolded frenzy to get somewhere else, fast.

A scene starts to paint itself on the paper, a desert settlement, an earthy people whose faces tell stories of depths of life we can’t imagine. Deeply dusty homes, women sit cross-legged on the earth, making flatbread, just being.

(she gets a text from a friend, who is sick of it always being on his terms, always his way. She responds ‘do it YOUR way honey!’ and returns to the desert.)

She’s yearning, yearning, yearning for this place to be, this place where nothing else is required. Nothing.

(‘ I’ve never done that before, it’s fearful…’ comes the text.)


It’s fearful. It’s full of fear. The way we live is full of fear. We fear the other person, what they might do to us, what they might require from us or take from us. We fear looking bad, feeling bad, being bad. We fear not obtaining things, we fear losing everything, we fear failure, we fear success.

Mostly we fear what will happen if we just let go of our fear, and of the notion that we could be in full control of our surroundings and the other people around us.