“When you find love, real love, it’s like a catastrophe, like a tsunami. Like an earthquake, because all your individuality, all what you believed you are, it’s breaking. And you are completely another person. You never know what you were. And it’s a catastrophe –– but a good catastrophe, not a bad catastrophe.”
It’s another day.
It never quite fits the bill — or so it seems.
But nothing is fixed. Not even the thoughts that camouflage reality. In fact, it’s hard to know what any of it is save perhaps a moving, shifting, energetic experience.
I know I’m talking in riddles and it’s outwith the normalcy of a society and/or culture which expects us to (not in all cases) live up to some ideal person but it’s a lie. Even the money. You see, as I can attest, doing the right thing is just that and I’ve never seen anyone awaken to true self. Mostly that part of them becomes something they stuff down and forget about until it’s too late.
Ah, too late. Another theme of mine.
Not to worry, the hope-mongering brigade will be around in a minute to preach that the future is better than now. In what sense?
No, I prefer to live…now — as if I’ve got a choice. Now is good enough. The rest can wait.
Anyhow, it’s that time again when Alfie and I need to expand our consciousness (in nature). Actually, he’s not that interested in any of it because he is it; oh, and it’s his birthday today; he’s eight. I don’t know what that means in human years but I wish I was eight but that’s just wishful thinking — haha.
Blessings and much love,