the stories we tell and in storytelling, the lens, the frame of reference or the orientation to a reality, real and here or far and gone
some describe the antics of it in curves, in bell curves, and shapes of graphs that have standard deviations moving out in directions away from the center, where one might walk and find himself, on the edge? within the belled curve?
there used to be an understanding of rainbows, of the color each that makes it up, a part of the spectrum, that in singularity is a color experiencing the rainbow and through the relationship to the other colors, experiences the rainbow through itself
i have gone far and few in between, where the soars of expanse met birds flying, closely to the sun, far from the earth and closer to the moon, to the other planets, orbiting in a circle opposed to the rotund mass below, in rejection or in denial, that to create is to destroy, and yet destruction does not occur blindly at the hands of those quaking, for in there is the trap and the contract that propels inward and not onward
what is your frame of reference? and sometimes more importantly, the question: what is the frame of reference of those around you? it is not in closing our eyes that we see more, that the more we see ourselves, the less we see them, it is in opening, looking deeply at it, at it widely, to see the many frames of the same picture, and how the frame itself shapes the picture .. how do we come to interact with images if we have no lens to view them from
there is a choice that holds it all, that reminder or glimpse of you, do you remember that? i stand here and so sometimes choose to make myself wrong, to make them right, and wrong, to make myself right, to fight against, to encourage and persuade, to convince others to walk and stand beside
the more that i heard their stories, the more that i listened to music, to see the moving images of a story that fell and flew again, it was there that i became more willing, to see their frame of reference and so in turn, to see their point of view, the creative embedment of reality, of their reality, and the reality alongside mine
when i stand here, i see those who stand over there, and i do not understand
when they stand there, and they see me who stands over here, they do not understand
we would fight each other in clashes, we could bear testimony to truth, and we would not listen, and we would not know, that we had oriented to it differently, and so to convince and force in a fashion would never work, it would reinforce the me of over here and the you of over there, until we were willing to jump along, and invite the standing of allies who would go home and make something different to eat each night and awake from sleep or dreams or insomnia to a day that would create itself or one that would be created by
this is a world of many species, this is a world of choice and no choice, and they who would like to turn off the switch in the morning and illuminate it at night unconscious, and a world of making right and wrong, the judgment
if you could be both, both right and wrong, would you still be right or wrong? and would they?
the question of orientation: are we willing to see where others operate from? the more we see it, the more called to understand, the more to allow and leave be, and the more to play with, the spunned web that gathered materials from around and the bird house that did not only use the tree that branched in this direction
this world holds the start and stop of a motion that is sometimes suspended in a space and at others time is experienced as a collapse of time, the folding of a matrix into, and the overlap of experience simultaneously ..
what is the spark that lights you? does the fire set blazen trail ignite the world on fire or only your world? .. where the path does merge and diverge, on trail and off, invitations of including? or perpetuations of intruding?