With a strong trunk
Connected to the ground
It makes a circle
And grows in all directions
It is full of life
Creating quite a stir
Even places that were broken
It looks at the world
As a child
It takes its space
It dances smoothly
Through it all.
Is it about me, following life as it lives itself through pain and nerve growth, becoming curious about itself?
Is it about the pain, going along with the growing nerves, being curious about what will happen next?
Is it about both of us?
After all, Who is cerating the pain?
When the nerves grow they hurt. So I heard. So I seem to experience. If I walk too much when they feel better, they feel worse afterward.
But does it really have to be that way?
Can I change this?
In that case, Just drawing it with intuitive flow and writing in the same way, coming to know the thinking and imagining part of it a bit closer, releases this thinking from its hold on my idea of me and the world and the ways that they behave.
It is hard to define the “me” here. I suspect it is made of such ideas as above, collected throughout life, associated with one another and stay as a strange collection that keeps pushing us to live inauthentic lives, and so is the world.