the morning gory which blooms for an hour differs no at heart from the giant pine, which lives for a thousand years.

alan watts-

someone is having a hard time sleeping, others are running for their lives. while some celebrate births others are burying their loved ones. and while the sun and moon keep changing places all of us are somewhere in between. aware that at sometime, somewhere, the music will stop and there will be no chair to retreat too. until then, we swap places with one another, taking or spending money, one listens while others speak, a breath comes in while an action appears. bouncing about in a random selection of the old game of hide and seek.

im aware of so many things yet seemingly still so far from the answers. my daily ritual of chasing my tail and repeating the things that the past has proven safe allows rings to form in my trunk, allows the seasons to pass relatively unscathed. i have choosen the idea that there is a difference between an old oak and a morning glory, that quantity also matters, so i continue. so i consume. i gather and hunker down.

in our head a world whirls on. fear and fun battle along with our weight and our relationships. bits of our enamel get worn down as we furiously brush our teeth each night to keep the plaque at bay. our bank accounts eve and flow as we run around the garden collecting nuts, much like the squirrels outside. closing our eyes the universe expands while at nights we fly through galaxies only to appear in the morning to a seemingly new world that feels so familiar. a sureness to our mission gives us the energy and the ability to put on whatever persona we might need to keep the ruse going, to keep the fantasy real, for we know that another side lurks just below the veneer and we much prefer the soft side. we prefer the idea of a repetition, a game that even if we lose at we still want to keep going.