Insight Poetry

Ordinary is a lie…

It’s incredible how many issues can be resolved by slowing down…

Trauma was my inheritance… Healing is my birthright…

Words have their own separate language. It’s constantly shifting, re-arranging… Altering itself to expand its relationship, or to defy the assumption… Redefining context, it presents its own definition, its own narrative… An aperture… An instrument… A vehicle for establishing new patterns of thought and action… We are all language, components of imagination and expression, their embodiment…

It continues to amaze me how little, if anything of what I perceive is accurate. Even myself, I seem to be perpetually better off AND doing significantly worse than I imagine. At the SAME time… Nothing is linear and it makes no sense. I have no idea what is going on, and yet I continue to construct a narrative, and try really hard (often unsuccessfully) to make it a good one… I am lost and confused, and maybe that’s as close to the truth as I will get… Maybe awe and wonder are more real than understanding…

None of these thoughts mean anything… Rarely do I feel any way for the reasons I think…

Some things can’t be done on purpose. They can only happen by accident…

Silence is part of the music…