i was sitting at helen’s kitchen table when i saw these words. it was years ago, now, and they have been rolling in my head ever since. for a long time they were posted on a a little card at the edge of the door. they were attributed the buddha, and there was a phrase about how remembering these was good:
i do not know
i do not have
i do not understand
such comfort i find in this. such comfort.
the most important things, i do not understand them. i cannot understand love. time. the nature of my consciousness. the nature of existence. the nature of desire. how does my mother know when i am weeping? why doesn’t my father speak? how did he feel the green light in his heart? why does the smoke rise without pattern?
i want to kiss the whole world. every plant, every stone, every person. i want to look everything in the eye and ring with the glory of its being, so that i am dissolved in the knowing of it, no me just rrriiinnnnngggggggg.
this is the endeavor of my days. i try to dissolve. then i slip quietly through the streets on my bicycle, and sing to people, and ask them to breathe with me, and to feel their bodies, to feel the universe. my vocation is the reverse of a lullaby, a sweet song in which i try to cajole the world to wake up, wake up, wake up.