A confluence of energies manifests itself in a damn good night. Chartreuse, for too long unimbibed by yours truly, suddenly makes a happenstance appearance. Friends that I love visit from out of the greater world beyond the bubble. The nargilah is sparked 5 times in a row. 9 or 10 people crammed into the tiny space of my cabin. A host to varying levels of consciousness and energy. Drums are hit haphazardly. The pore widening sharp steam of the sauna later. Some Rumi reading. The gift of life and beauty is handed to me from so many different sources all at once like some wizard of Oz shit. I remember again why I exist to feel. Loneliness is a mirror of love. Look into love’s surface and you see the empty sky and the darkness of the unseen. Jump in.
Things just happen when I need them. There is no planning in joy. I let go and I discover delight waiting just past the sadness.
Old times, new times, in-between times. Nodal points of beauty like flames of gathered life in the night. Come near, cold and lonely traveler. Be like the moth drawn to the wonder of its destruction.


Author: manderson

I live in NYC.

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