If we accept everything, nothing can hurt us
There is nothing to be done.
In my notebooks I’ve said all my brilliant things, but in my head I repeat:
ADAPT. ADJUST. ACCOMMODATE.
BEAR INSULT. BEAR INJURY.
This morning I have sutra in my coffee.
I watch the puppies, I take the makeup off my eyes with thin cotton and they close.
I’ve been clapping my hands viciously to keep the quiet away. The noise comes with me (the funk) and it makes my eyes unsteady when I tilt my head back, swallowing sweet. I know this part so well; in my labyrinth it’s where I turn and walk back out, over the stone in the rundown part of town, with my cigarette and my black notebook and my bare feet. I throw my arms in the air.
That was eight years ago and it is the same now, the pattern. I spiral up I spiral down I twist to knot, I untie (my favorite place).
I love I lie I love I lie.
and always at the end, with my head bowed, I make noise to keep the truth away, i rage.
But if we accept everything, nothing can hurt us. Not your ego, or mine. not even that I feel I’m living the same memory over and over again. I open my hands to my place and everyone else’s, all action, reaction, games, all honesties, obligations commitments freedoms-
esse quam videri.
to be rather than to seem.