Adventures in Urban Mysticism: La La La

 

La La La…

AHHHHH!

Breathe in.  Breathe out.  Beat beat of the heart.  Beat beat buh-beat of my hands on the table as I stretch my mind further once more.  Expression.  Reflection.  Expression.  Reflection.  That’s how it goes, get used to it JMAW.  Get used to it.  Well, of course, as evidenced by the previous three ventures into extensive writing (one narrative poem, two books), I find it once again.  An itch.  An itch that I have to figure out in order to scratch accordingly.

They, them, I, her, him, she, he, all are right in saying that you’ll write the rest of your life to me.  I know it.  I feel it.  I guess I live it.  The question I grapple is do I love it…

I enjoy expression and see many different ways I have sought to express.  I see how intricately things seem to weave together not just on paper but outside of me in the best and the worst of times. But do I love it?  I can’t say I do.  It’s just something I do.  I have to.  I love the experiences that lead to reflection and subsequent expression, but the the writing process…  My inner quest of self-mastery makes the words never seem like the masterpiece.  Maybe that’s why I’m good at it.  Maybe that’s why I can write poetry forever.  Because there is still so much more to say about the Beauty of Life.  Of Living and Loving Fully.

I can get down with that.  I can be that.  I guess sometimes I gotta tell myself to just:

Be. Breathe. Believe.

Yeah, I’ll roll with that.  BWYL (Blog with y’all later).

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