From novice to winner and when we win the veil once thingrows again but thicker Now, now… I am now other Our inner light goes dimand as it is in darkness we stumble & with every misstep we remember We never wonWe were meant to be humblebeginners always, playful and curious setting sail at every day break expecting a middle, never an end but the middle is difficult, there is no shore in sight, no person, no bird, not even a tree but that is where we often are if we were brave enough for sea the sirens will sound, but on my boat there is only meno crew to call out, no one…no mast for them to tie meonly my anchor, my compass, and my sail. only us. only us 3 we headwe heedand sometimes hedonistically, we lead a sea of whims and notifications in frenzy

sometimes I think the sea is that cup we all like to be and when sailing is hard then it must be full and it is my cue to empty

Half full half empty, a destination too dull (if you ask me)If our body is water, and earth is too then why cant I liken to rivers, whirlpools, wells, lakes, snow storms, and the sea

Every time I arrive at my Murano cup destinationI submit to its fragility I suddenly lose suchness to my soul, it wains and its inner sound gets weak trapped in glass and architected miseriesMuch of my day is wasted fighting demons I never called my enemy and when not necessary, all this fighting leaves no room for my muchness, no room for me

Again I find myself alone in the middle but I have exchanged the three for glass and a whole lot of prestige?

The middle you see is when the sea looks like an endless blue sheet, the beginning is too far to remember, and the end is unseen. How do we get past the middle? A fish that jumps at me, slips from my hands, twists on my deck and ends up again at sea. I sleep and awaken fumbling in my trinkets forgetting my deeds. Allergic to fish, the scales like blades, the truth will make us all bleed.

Much of my muchness trapped in glassSong to my suchness too far to grasp Others and my otherness always at an impasse Until my heart mind reminds me cups break but the water, the water is free like Moses: we can part the sea

May your heart open and not break You get no guarantee May you live with hearts wide open open enough they choose to break free Let your heart break open A part in every sea

AmenAmma,

Fodder

Prestige (n.)1650s, "trick, illusion, imposture" (senses now obsolete), from French prestige (16c.) "deceit, imposture, illusion" (in Modern French, "illusion, magic, glamour"), from Latin praestigium "delusion, illusion" (see prestigious).

“prestige is like a powerful magnet that warps even your beliefs about what you enjoy. It causes you to work not on what you like, but what you’d like to like.” Paul Graham via Maria Popova

Suchness

“Tathātā (/ˌtætəˈtɑː/; Sanskrit: तथाता; Pali: tathatā) is a Buddhist term variously translated as "thusness" or "suchness," referring to the nature of reality free from conceptual elaborations and the subject–object distinction.” Wikipedia

Muchness

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