''Book of Songs'
”Book of Songs’

When world of before is no longer the world that you can resonate with. You don’t understand why people are concerned about the things that they seem to place at the tops of their priority lists, and you find yourself wondering how things could possibly have changed, internally, so quickly. Was the trip that long? Did you really go that far? What kind of dimensions did you go out to, without knowing just exactly how it happened? What did happen, what didn’t, and why do you feel so strange now, in your own rooms, in your old spaces? Certainly the crazy time of life is when you’re between things—in the interstice between a prior life, and one that’s about to become. Writers call these ‘chapters’. White-haired mountain dwellers in India you may meet will call them ‘yugs.’ ‘Four yugs,’ they’ll say. ‘Birth. Learning. Application. Preparing for death.’

While waiting between THEN and AHEAD OF NOW, so many things are swimming about in your mind. You want to talk about this, sort of, but you also want to hide away and try to process things for yourself. You can’t decide how to start, and you stare at the walls that used to seem so comfortable and familiar but now are just… walls.

Which feel, now, with this perspective and space intime, deafeningly blunt. Where is the good stuff?

The stuff that makes us feel something. That feels… Human? Ah, yes. That. —AS

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25 October 2015