Juxtapositioning

words are foreplay for the soul
February 4th, 2011 by me

Rhythm

There is a sweet spot somewhere and I mean to find it. Not that I haven’t been enjoying the exquisite contrast between hyper-aliveness and the seeming vacuum created when not in that state, but somewhere along that spectrum is a place of balance. I suspect a rhythm may emerge, an expression of the juxtaposition of longing, desire and logistics, but it hasn’t happened yet. It may never, not to my complete satisfaction. Instead I [try to, sometimes grudgingly maybe] content myself with looking for the patterns of rhythm that are already evident. Yes, I have a thing for patterns. And noticing. Yay me.

Here’s one:

input input input input input input input input input input magic input input input input input input input input input input input input input input input input magic input input input input input input input input input input magic process process process process process process process write write write write write write

Here’s another:

in in in in in out in in in in in in out out in in in in in in in in out in in out out out in in

The rhythm I seek lies deep within, a resonant ba dum ba dum ba dum ba dum, wild ancestral tones that echo within my cells. I am unwinding the near past, throwing off the shroud and drinking deep gulps of aliveness, becoming bigger and more fearsome with each wilding breath. This is where the rhythm lives, untouched by time constraints or propriety, peacefully co-existing with desire, community, and the inner workings of my cells. This rhythm bubbles up to the surface at times, escaping in joyful exuberance, then sinking down again as my fears and self-imposed structures take hold again.

One day I might release them. One day I might live within the drumbeat heart rhythm. One day I might simply BE, rather than impose my will on things. One day I might float with the rhythm.

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