This past few weeks we have been carmelizing down by the seashore. Fireworks in the shape of a school house flared into the black night and split us right open to the rhythm of the sea and the tides and the tea kettle. I made plenty of mistakes parenting my kids each day, just like usual, but the difference was I could turn them loose on the sand and they could build up an empire between us. We walk away each day from one doomed empire and return the next day to loosen the sand and build another.
We talk to ourselves everyday, all day (and night) for the whole of our lives. We started talking to ourselves before we knew we were a self, we forget what we said because we forget everything from before...when we were too young and busy developing our brain to remember those early years. There is still lingering residue of long forgotten conversations I have had with myself as a toddler sitting around in the crevices...sloughing off occasionally into words I tell myself still. We talk non-stop, and not just with dialogue. Our goosebumps communicate to us, our tingly feelings, our neurons, our peripheal vision. They are all submitting data into our self and expecting us to react, respond or all to often, expecting what they are sending us will be ignored. After all that talking, you'd think we'd know what we think about most things, but occasionally we are stumped. Unless we stop what we are doing and really concentrate sometimes that voice(s) ...
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