I'm sure I have something to say...

Ever the optimist, I will start in the middle and hope to end by returning to the beginning to make the thought whole, because I need to.

That said, how do I proceed with this, knowing that the reader is also by nature a fluid and diverse construct, made up of a myriad of variables and, entrenched with opinions and biases, reacts at the first sign of any disrespect of the only world order he allows himself to know.

At what point do we decide to deceive ourselves?

Is this behavior coded into our genes, or is this a learned skill vital for social survival?

The smile of acceptance, the pat on the head of agreement makes us one, but that coin has two faces and just as easily, prejudices could explode from neuron to neuron as if by reflex, escaping to seize space and declare how dare he?

With what right?

I suggest that it is the page itself that beckons both you and I, and  like you, I too am a witness.

Would that we could meet in some half world where all preconceived notions are for naught, then would I, and maybe you as well, agree to accept that all thought and knowledge exists in the ether and long before we approach, lays itself bare in the light; not judging the reader, but allowing itself to be judged, half understood in arrogant haste before the punctuation closes the sentence.

This almost instinctive distraction, this loop of information and opinion traps consciousness in a grip of 'what I know I defend, what I don’t know I leave behind'.

My ability to learn or reject is based, not on the words that construct the thoughts, but on who I am and where I am coming from at the time; my reflection itself seems caught up in the words, and what I hear may not be what you hear even though we are listening to the same thing.

How do I disrobe?

Can I change the mechanics of thought and live in acceptance constantly, even as ‘is’, ‘was’, and ‘will be’ orbit each other?

The well of my understanding is dwarfed by the magnificence of the ether that contains all this thought, this knowledge, vibrating with constancy, yet still in the brilliantly lit darkness.

Selfishly and childlike, I and you, in our capacity as 'we', grip tightly to our own understanding and reject the rest, like  fools trying to separate water from water and hoping to not get wet.

I would claim innocence (and you should as well), but if I were to speak the truth (and in shame no less), I would accept that it is fear that drives me, and 'I' as 'we' refuses to act but instead reacts to the ripples we all make in our common pool.

How sad the condition of 'I' as 'we' because 'I' as 'me' has no such issues without the presence of another, and looking around I realize that I am not immersed but submerged beneath the burdens of my own choosing, my own design.

Again I ask how do I disrobe, how do I change this mind and leave these unconscious patterns behind?

How do I separate the 'me' of thinking from the 'me' of being and free 'I' as 'we' to be, just to be... 

 

Tumbling into time I leave no mark other than my acceptance or my rejection of all these thoughts, and 'I' as 'we' holds me tenderly even as it inflicts the most unbearable pain that 'I' as 'me' never would. 

It is very clear that 'I' cannot disrobe if 'we' do not, because 'I' as 'we' make the thing solid and gives it form. The orbit of knowledge born in consciousness requires a witness to make the thought real. Or does it?

Is it that 'I' exist only if 'we' exist?

Can 'I' ever truly be singular if no one is around to count?

This one thing I know for sure; Light and sound is both the birthplace and destiny of us all, and into this chaos we must each one day return.