I don’t always understand what I see but reality has a quality that can blind us, thwart us or call us beautiful.And the real cool magical spice behind that is, our reality is largely based on our very own perspective. Our angle determines what shapes and sizes we see. There are positions we choose to be in and ones we don’t have control over, and what we have decided or not decided to be within us, is where our view becomes what the reality is.
When I think of reality I think of conditioned hair with the ability to choose our own shampoo. We are a product of our past, conditioned to our experiences. But it does not mean we cannot outgrow, differ or tweak what we were ‘supposed’ to believe in. We can change our type of shampoo.We are all hairdressers even if we’re bald. I’m not one nor am I, but I do understand my hair.
Our perspective on reality gets more realer the more we invest on learning the whys and the hows of individuals and situations.
We can align with the core of us, and recognize that everyone else has a core too, and by putting forth effort in having more experiences that differ, the more perspective we have.
We gloom , we glee, we get closer to a bigger reality.
when those moments
clicked with reality
and was what was happening.
placed themselves on my skin
and in my heart, nestled up.
The view changed
and the memory
became unalike what it had been;
and became only what I remembered of a memory.
Blank, you know ?
It doesn’t have a living brain to remember the last canvas you did.
It’s today; always blank, without any notion you painted yesterday all black
or ate a 549 calorie sized dessert.
It’s today, you know? Blank like you’ve never brought brush to white.
It’s just like that.
A month ago yesterday, son and I landed in Toronto.
It feels like a year.
What is busy?
Everyones busy is different. It is a perspective.
I am coming from days that were spent sitting at home editing videos, days where going a 30 second walk to the village playground was the highlight of the day. Every day.
20 minute drives into town to run errands, to shop and to see people. Days where going outside is the least of what we do.
So to me, my busy has elevated quite quickly.
Speaking with people is a part of my busy.
Getting doors held open for me and my stroller, acknowledging and saying ‘thank you’, is a part of my busy.
Eventually, these will become less of busy and more of just how life is.
And it will be my basis, my grounds, for more busy. So maybe by the time my kid goes to school, I’ll be so used to my busy, not having him around daily, will drive me to the Whoa Streets.
Or maybe not.