Looking to ground a grater while grating chocolate, the process of which builds static electricity, sending chocolate shavings all over. Thoughts?

     Я помню ту безветренную ночь, когда я впервые услышала шорох свёртывающихся сухих листьев. И тот день, когда я увидела фракталы в облаках. А ещё был тот момент "аха!" когда я увидела линию на воде, в речке; что она разделяет? Однажды я разломила веточку тополя и нашла там звёздочку. Много чего могу назвать и показать. И ведь всё это пришло ко мне уже во взрослом возрасте! Вселенная безгранична, и человек тоже. Теперь я передаю свои "знания" дальше, детям. А может, сохранить парочку на то время, когда они будут старше меня, чтобы не забывали волшебство?

photo credit goes to Melissa Walker

Mission Impossible

     Ночь, бабочки и Млечный Путь; ветерок, созвездия и мерцающие корабли. Здравствуй, Вселенная. Вот скажи мне, почему мне так сложно любить? Или даже не любить, а выражать эту огромную любовь? ... А, точно! это моя жизненная миссия - любить, я это знала с самого начала, теперь помню. Поэтому мне попадаются такие люди, которых сложно, очень сложно любить - чтобы я научилась это делать. Но вот только давным-давно мама сказала, что не надо этого - а вдруг придёт какой-то толстый, лысый, вонючий, злой, и его тоже придётся любить. Конечно, она не о том говорила, но она была права. Мама, в общем, всегда права. Хотя я вот уже сама мама, и мне кажется что я не бываю права никогда. Это наверное потому, что начать любить нужно с себя.

     Хорошо с тобой, Вселенная, спасибо за горячий шоколад.

photo credit: Harriet Russell "Sixty Impossible Things Before Lunch"

Brain Emotions

     I take out a dress to put on, it's flowing silk with cotton paneling, it's a gift - sentimental value is woven into it. But out of the blue (or rather, red, it's a red dress) I ask myself - is silk cruelty-free and vegan? No, no it's not! I could, naturally, justify the industry and the process, just out of reasons of exploration, nothing else. There is, however, a stand from the environmentally-conscious point of view, and that is: upcycling, reusing, recycling the fabric. It's silk! - it's gorgeous, sensuous, strong and, if you're into that sort of thing, expensive. It's also art. So, being gifted unknowingly, buying second-hand, keeping out of the landfills - could one stand the use of silk within those terms, gilt-free?

Hologram Me

     I feel like there are at least ten people living inside of me... Don't! don't label right away, wait. Reach for that spot where, when tickled, boredom turns into curiosity. It feels like ice cream to me, that process, pink in flavour. What a distraction.
     In simple images, when a situation is encountered it becomes a whole little world of its own - it's completely self-functioning and whole, yet nothing without a thinker who thinks it. Of course, one can argue that, but is there anything that can't be argued?
     So. I can't show you the whole situational world in just an interaction. I can't. It would take so long, that ice cream would melt. Instead, I have to pick and choose words and gestures and facial expressions to kinda-sorta relate the hell or ecstasy or beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep of that world. And the rest is simply lost. You see, we did degrade, as humans, with the use of the alphabet. Because we lost the art of communication. I know, that might not make sense on paper. For some.
     But my brain is sluggish. There's so much information out here, my anfractuosities and crinkles are getting over-worked. Because of that it takes some tick-tocking to express just the right thing in just the right manner. I've never taught myself that! I'm struggling. And finally it comes out, but bitchy and just plain wrong. People are confused. Half the stuff remains unspoken. Can I write you an e-mail instead? I swear, I'll follow the rules of writing in which an idea quietly and smoothly makes its way to you and doesn't jump or tear, fade or bite its own tail. Head. I'm saying "head" - I just flipped a coin, because I fidget while I talk.
     I just lied up there, in a sentence above. But it's almost unnoticed, because it's just words. There's no image that I can share mind-to-mind. If there were, you would catch that lie. I file and trim my nails, I don't fidget. I used to bite them, but now I use that time wisely.
     Now I can say it: if I were to explain it all - the whole situation at hand - one would think (or dare say) that I could think there are at least ten people living inside of me, or ten emotions, each with its own desired outcome. So don't pose "Can you just tell me what you want" on me. Or some other such thing.  Because I wish I could just hologram you, in all the senses.

photo credit unknown