Fellow soulful touchy-feely opposite friend,
The calendar is a benign measuring tool yet my anthropomorphising self thinks the countdown clock taunts me today:
13,378 days to go!
Dividing the illusion of self into seven-plus billion, using the illusion’s self-delusion as a form of divining rod, one allows oneself to dissolve in order to smell the wind.
Messages pulse through society like heartbeats, pumping health and filth at regular intervals, clogging the arteries of public opinions, creating cesspools, cancers, festering sores full of the disenfranchised losing or gaining energy, affecting the whole.
All for the sole entertainment of one person.
As the message goes, “As it is, as it should be.”
Street talk says a film starring the Big O herself was to blame for the latest “when all you have is a hammerlock, the only solution is gunpowder” message spoken by a costar, paraphrased, “for every one they kill, we kill two,” despite its negative connotation, or because of it, a cat o’ nine tails whipping the shipyards like convicts stuck in a bad performance of Les Miserables, their malice clear as day in their bloodshot eyes.
Every positive mental attitude teacher knows that you never include “not” or other negative subtext when encouraging or enlightening one’s students to improve their world image, for the “not” becomes a “Yes I can” in the thought patterns of the misaligned, maligned malcontents, the chaff wanting to be eaten at the same table as the wheat.
Yet, the world doesn’t go away.
In seven-plus billion is every one of us — the colours of the rainbow, the blind, the deaf, the happy, the sad, the brights, the conscienceless, the healers and the social arterial cloggers.
A subset of the superset of states of energy desires to be one with history, to walk amongst the cultural giants, to be what they feel they cannot be for reasons best left for them to explain, if they have a clue.
Humour is the key that unlocks the door to society’s medicine cabinet, which is fronted by a mirror we choose what to see of ourselves in the reflection looking back at us, left eye to reversed left eye, right eye to reversed right eye, unlike the reflection of ourselves we see in others, left eye to right eye, right eye to left eye, assuming the nominal operation of the symmetrical binary division of our body parts.
My thoughts for the day.
Bai read the text from Lee and wondered what he was trying to tell her. Had she not picked the song for him to read the title as straightforward an approach as she knew how, leaving room for playful teasing?: “Would I Lie To You?”
Bai basked in the glow of the previous weekend’s conference on self-improvement where she had served as the “touchy-feely” expert, providing free hugs and handshakes of love and encouragement for the attendees.
She knew how to handle the negative inner voice that wanted to dominate her thoughts sometimes — as a successful self-employed person, she had long ago put her internal and externalised views of the world into a positive light.
Bai had developed a love for others that allowed her to reach out without compromising herself in order to express to those around her that she loved them unconditionally, releasing the instantaneous fears of meeting strangers that made many others apprehensive in a crowd.
She only had a few hours with Lee to refine their dance routine for the upcoming showcase in two days.
But it was not just the dance routine that she wanted to work on. She wanted to make Lee a more open person, helping him forgive the images of important people in his thoughts, release the negative inner messages that twisted into passive-aggressive attitudes serving as an unnecessary shield between himself and the people around him who wanted his full love and attention undivided by inner doubts fed by fear of rejection.
Was it too much to ask of him?
Her life was also in turmoil but she was getting a good grip on her emotions, balancing the need to let her boyfriend go without losing him against her need for a steadying male presence in her life, sometimes served mainly by one person but more often served by a mix of personalities across several men — brother, father, confidante, lover, DJ competitor, dance partner — and sometimes served by the socially-defined male-like personality in women that varied by subculture.
She knew the only way to bring happiness into her life was to give happiness freely. Not everyone accepts gifts and that’s okay. She couldn’t control their behaviour, giving out hope and love in equal quality, the quantities depending on how much she felt the other person needed her — for one person, a smile; for another, a hug with no time limit.
She debated responding to Lee’s text. Instead, she was going to talk with him and ask him to open himself up to what he really wanted out of life besides dance lessons. Text messages were great when you couldn’t be with someone but not nearly as fulfilling as real conversation.