Member-only story
Captain’s Log
Passing of another story-line
Beginning with a story of cutting and rolling, painting of sorts, covering walls with new tint, singing and dancing nature’s song, youngest of clan enters the room. “Can I help?” Yes, of course, never turning down a helping hand.
Handing brush, ox hair priceless as it may be, not thinking of consequences, paint now covering bristles, metal and handled stick. What the heck happened? As quickly as the “I’m sorry” happened I was transported backward to working with my father. Scolded for not knowing proper care, a brush is still a brush, but his failure of not knowing, teaching example lacking the same.
Oh my dear, it is ok, merely making you aware. While only a brush, value to whatever given, it still needs our care. Spinning possibilities as to how events came to be, similarly worldly events, it could be this or that, failure on my part, lacking on theirs, blame game as watered down paint to thin, it just is.
Lesson learned dragon arrival for a nightly visit, cyclical return, swallowing own tail. Ouroborus infinitely returning, never-ending, ever-beginning, drenched in a message, collective past, backtrack discussion daughter explained.
Next day thoughts digressing, expanding awareness, consciousness exploratory assignment,’ It’ comes to be. Gods of Sea, Thunder, and Wind. Spirits of the Wind, Great Spirit, Oneness, contemplative collective, the visionary label of things, collaborating stories soothing souls, mere attempts to what ‘Is,’ deductive reasoning, becoming It Just Is.
Affectionately guiding us, becoming what may be, challenging all things as before, accepting what’s governing corners of the Earth. Transcending label of things, integrating and intertwining All Things in All Ways, no longer following rules of engagement, written laws of man, Stepping into The Canvas, becoming the Canvas itself, self-declaration I Am Here, stepping precisely as expected.
Respondents unable pressing journalist thoughts, obsessed with grass greener on another side of the moon, whereas color wheels losing mind. Stories passing day after day, ideating new chapters, unspoken words given new meaning to co-creating without lifting a finger once smashed by hammers weight.
