Keep it simple, silly

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Being breathed

I breathe, soft whispers pass through my nostrils, alternately cool and warm, in and out, breath after breath and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. This is being breathed. This is my body’s job: to breathe and await instruction. Lift arm, move leg, talk, write, it matters not: the body is an instrument, nothing more. How could I ever have been so naïve to believe this body was me? Even possessing it is impossible.

Eyes close for countless moments and I forget I am here, drifting home briefly to the vast empty space. Nothing surrounds me and all is quiet. Eternity visits to remind me where I live. All disappears in the drop of my eyelids and all becomes nothing. There is no hindrance here. And then the world reenters my field of view and I pretend to be J again – as best I can, for now it feels fraudulent: who is this personality I would attempt to emulate? Why would I want to be this to you?

I am nobody. No body. There is nothing to be. There is nothing. Nowhere to go. Nowhere is everywhere.

And that is all.


Anonymous Linda said...

ah, but the stillness that is your aura is not an emulation, is it? the emotion in your eyes is not pre-planned. what you say may or may not accurately present the person that is you .. but what you exude, that, i believe, is the truth. but, i am no body. really.

2:09 am, April 18, 2006


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