Elizabeth

Mary says there is no God. She tells me that if there were he wouldn't let people eat bad food. You know. Twinkies? I think that is what she means. I tell her she needs to be happy that she has anything. Mom says that's grateful. I'm grateful for Twinkies. Think they taste good. I pray and tell God I am. And I think maybe everything is that way. Someone loves it, even if I don't. I'll ask the doctor if anyone is happy to be sick when I see him tomorrow. It is a big day!

Tomorrow I get to see the gumball machine outside his office, the one that moves like a circus. Up and down and inside gears and pulleys and into my mouth! Mmm! SO GOOD! I'm chewing it now.

When I think about it the doctor likes injuries cuz' he gets paid. He's nice, so I'm glad people get hurt. I'll tell him that too. I'll tell Mary. Somebody loves everything. Nobody loves nothing.

So many ways to say that. In the end, won't we all be grateful for it all?

Figment

We are allowed to see what we want. I am a big advocate of will. If I will it into the existence I perceive that it may be real, but reality is often more than you or I. Reality is universal. Reality is truth. Is it no wonder that most people see only half of reality in this day and age? Between our personal ideas and those deceitful lies spread by the rest of humanity and their preconceived notions it can be difficult to see what really applies, what really affects, what really equates. It isn't open for major consensus or understanding. Reality is what dictates, we do not dictate reality. Our affirmation and general consensus creates a unity of understanding. With that unity we can overcome small thinking and actually explore. Push and pull and examine reality until we intimately can exclaim that it is full and fair. There are rules for happiness. Real happiness. Happiness that still stands after the voice of our opinion dies out and our constant challenging of understanding melts into a dreary slumber. If, for five minutes after you awake, you can simply grasp that new morning feeling before you drag the rest of your circumstance into it then we can all exclaim together that life is delightful.

Filament

That little stick of a metal is bright with the polish of a current. Who would have thought it could shine so brightly? Dance for me little light. Sing a song for me.
You can't?

You can't do anything except shine.

What if I fell down and broke my sacrum? What if I drown in the wading pool while diving filling out underwater tax forms (three feet or less of water pressure)?

You can't help.

You are the most useless light I have ever had.

Ever after he yon only invested in Lamps.

Cory: Origins, part 1

Epilogue: The light did not fail in every way. Later, under that same light, a lost pencil was found. Whoa, even that same shining did cause a thief to change his malicious plans under the thought that occupants may be home. On top of it all the light was used to investigate the perils of the universe one sleepy night while the rooms occupants stared, mesmerized, into it. 

Splendor in the grass

If I had cried over a twenty dollar bill, a car, a morning, a day wasted, then one would think I complained. But, is their anything for which I should be mourning? What is worth our weeping, worth our time? What governs sadness? What beautiful moment missed should ever be mourned?

They live. I live. Life is ceaseless, the possibilities endless. I grasp my eternal hand with yours and into that something we continue, never leaving behind those cherished, but letting them follow us in wonder at our ability to progress. This ceaseless trade of thoughts and times presses on, and together we follow--caught in the wave.

Conspiracies of the third kind

Bill was not the sort of fellow who drank tea. He found it stuffy and bland. He now meticulously read the back of a small box of peppermint with a rapt expression. Passing housewives made nervous glances at the portly man blocking the small convenience store isle. They might approach to request he move, but found themselves disarmed before his fierce expression. This was the stuff of the wise and the rich. He reread the ingredients list for the 43^rd time. Peppermint leaf. Of course, he knew the box was lying. What of the string and little tags and those strange clothlike bags?

In a sudden motion he placed the box neatly back on the shelf with an excellent precision causing a nearby shopper to jump and a young lady to gasp. He, suddenly aware, gave sympathetic looks to both. “May wish to watch those nerves!” he woofed with a huff as he suddenly began his journey to the front of the store.

“I recommend the peppermint.”

He left the store empty hand. This was acceptable. There was a Wal-mart just down the street. They had better be more honest. They had better mention the packaging, or, come heaven or hell, someone may end up choking on it.

Guessing my name

Enter the world of guessing and you lose logic. Comforting, but it only sways in the feeler's favor for so long before it becomes "stupid" in every sense of the word. Stupid to feeling as well. I feel as though I shouldn't be doing this. Now you are defying two spectrums of execution. Stop now while you're a head! (Not a torso, mind you).

Let's take a look at the contrarian. He states the opposite. Befuddles merely because he can. Makes life a guessing game, mostly for himself. When will he succeed in retention of dramatic will. Will that, in the face of fiery acceptance and ruffled complacency, languidly lets his hair blow in golden locks as his white shirt billows and his arm rests on the comfortable hilt of the lazy-boy sword. Dramatic. Comfortable. Confident. He smells like oldspice.

Guessing is near to fear. It is the unknown and the lack of knowledge, for surely with knowledge you would not be wasting your time on that slot machine or in that geometry class. To algebra, then! Flee until the time is right, the knowledge matches the feeling, the daylight holds no surprises, only wonders you have yet to behold. And tomorrow... don't even get me started on tomorrow.

Felicity

There is a quality I have noticed in select few to create circumstance in the world around them. There is a certain joy to be had in their company. Vibrant and full of life, stagnation flees from their presence. Busy in a minute way, one that seems calm and relaxed-and, in fact, is-but flows freely with creative and uplifting thought. It seeks not to be fed, to devour, to absorb, but to fill and expand and enrich all around it.

It may not have been consistent at first, this quality. It wasn't. It can seem tiring and challenging, but we all have the opportunity to let it build within us, and then seep forth. The well goes dry for a short while in the beginning, but as we develop this most felicitous part of us we can maintain it for all the waking hours and glory in less strenuous ventures, less external, in the evening.

Whether it be quiet, or loud, these few heartfelt creators of moments and days may live and walk on. Breathe on. Quietly smile on.