there is nothing to say
except all the things i do not.
when it was over things lightened up greatly.
brightened in a dark amber glow,
knew more than we thought.
wondered at it.
wonder was an incredible vehicle for seeing.
the cat sits behind on my left facing the other way, north. and a chain undoes inside. there was nothing left to hide. no worries. it was alright. easy. free. i understand that i now nothing. i do not understand how this is true because i feel like i learned a lot from you, existence, or at least my version of you.
how wondrous to understand when something is true.
like she said, “true, not truth”.
i have nothing and this is what is interesting.
as soon as i let it,
it happens.
in fills the space
of nothing.
it is a wondrous ceremony of rote action becoming.
i pray everything.
to create something, see the space.
the nothing.
make.
after all the times i have sat, to write.
never has it been different or the same. it is one long sitting. one long thing.
it is a race to get the words out of me. to let them flow before the vessel closes.
metaphorically (though the stream of what i hear to write doesn’t stop it just changes modality), and physically as the actual vessel of my life closes. i understand the language. the message lives on in all things but it is like a race for me to write all the things before i go. i race myself. the words are maybe down to my collar bones, and it will be until they are down to my feet in the ground that i get them all out. this many years to the collar bones. i have been slow in letting them go.
the image stuck with me now as an idea of knowing when life is done.
i understand things i never knew existed.
i understand i know nothing,
and all at once nothing is visible.
i can create.
there is space.
i choose this.
thank you existence!
i love you.
sat nov 14
2020
8 04
excerpt from daily practice. image: pieces from ongoing art exploration “patina”
Cole G 