I refuse to make myself a resume,
As much as the mind continually wishes to do this.
A pulsing of life in a body moves from experience to experience. Even if it choses to stay in bed with the covers to its neck, the experiences come – through the light in the window – through the thunder outside, the mosquito in the ear, the pounding at the door –
All of the moments can be stitched together in such away to make a story – an attractive one – a funny one- a pitiful one – all still story. The story adds layers upon layers which the deepest part of you knows is false.
dancing in this world of ours of falseness – of suffering projected out into judgement of others’ worthiness – no one takes me seriously! really? why should they? What has that to do with a thing? Wanting others to view us in any sort of a way is all the act of resume building. This conglomeration of bones tissue blood memories preferences achy fingers bruised shins sagging breasts twinkling eyes – is nothing. In this realization of nothing lies great freedom. There is no charge – no combustion – there is no thing here to get a rise out of. My back may rise, yet know the hissing is just a fun game of pretend. Look at my claws, meow.
I have taken the daily beating of the worst sort of sadistic suffering guards – and I learned to shower them with love. If you expose your pain to me – even if you think you are wounding – I kiss it. I know it. I give because I need no reason – I am an empty vessel tapping into the thing greater than me – empty out the identity and you can know the universe and secrets within – and have no wish of personal gain from that. Others think they kick me while I could tell them wonders that I see in their buried parts – I can read the iris of their eyes and the lines on their palms, but they know not. I kiss the bleeding wound, dank with infection and sully my lips none.
You can take and are a taker – this trait is obvious for all to see – has been all along – and in your peek upon my breast, you reveal your own. In your wrath and prickliness, you reveal your soft underbelly – and desire to transcend your animal nature by diving deep within it – go on in head first, I shout.
I am coming to see the irony of the artist’s journey – the desire to be something to do something ties you to the flesh and to your experiences and to your pain. Trust the alchemy of this – and know all are accepted in the lap, all are allowed to suckle – there is no shame – there is not wrong but an infinity of choice – to engage or to provoke or to accelerate or to stagnate for a bit – matters not – free choice –
All water flows to the amassed mysterious sea – or evaporates into the hot air, to be rained into the sea, again and again. the games of who is good or who is talented or who has read enough to be deemed intelligent or who can name that line, “east is east and west is west, and never the twain shall meet,” in 30 seconds at the drunken literary dinner party – only to realize all is lost in the haze of chest beating and booze, let us fuck on this couch while my wife sleeps in the next room – she is hard of hearing – bravado. if inspiration is borrowed, that is taking too, without permission. And one says it sucks, one says it speaks, matters not, but that it was a choice of how to pass the time. we are all floating in the same mind space oblivious and sharp edged – for now. some awaken and merge and care not where one begins or another ends, who creates or who absorbs, or who is top or bottom; the merging is deeper than the mind can fathom.
* I feel the need for a disclaimer – All poking is at me or versions of me – boring, safe, predictable. I allow myself to push publish as I flow into different spaces. I find the format of a blog, which allows for free expression, also becomes a confine of identity at times.
Life as Improv 
Totally agree , i’m often caught between feeling the freedom of being nothing and the heaviness of wanting to be someone . Love ur post
the dance ! Joy sent your way, kindred friend. 🙂
Thanks a lot 🙂
I love this entire post. I wish I’d been able to write it. I know the deepest truth of it, and yet don’t live it, always striving striving to embody this truth – that it’s all just stories, nothing. I too refuse to make a resume at the core, and yet I still do, and live it. Until I don’t I guess. Returning to presence, to the lived experience that this moment is all that exists, and that I write this to myself – that, and only that, relieves the suffering.
No disclaimer was necessary.
xoxox
Until we don’t! I write to this to myself – exactly. So nice to share with the honesty of the experience here with you, Alison!
Great sync for me. It’s a struggle to be a nobody in a sea of somebody’s with fancy resumes, I yearn for the freedom of being nothing while still reaching for something just out of reach..
Yes! I have entered new arenas lately, and have found the old pull – the sea of somebodies 🙂
Real and raw and brave. I can feel the feelings flowing under, around and through the words. Masterful is the magic of such emotional alchemy.
xxOxx <~~~ this is a standing elevation!!!
Whoops of joy to witness such creation and to get to participate with you as it impacts me on my reading end of the share. Boundaries begin to dissolve the separation from those with the bravado and compassion in the illusion seeps in via the chinks in the armor as they lob their kumquats. Bravo, bravo, bravo!
Heart happiness, -x.M
kumquats being lobbed! Love your images – I see those medieval knights filling their slings with fruit 🙂
So much moving on so many levels. The platform for sharing here offers So many glimpses into the possible – In an instant, ceilings fly away and new skies appear.
X!m
We rise and fall. Sometimes the crest of the wave at other times the undistinguishable sea. And in the nothingness we find peace. Oh, but then we are pulled to crash upon the shore and spray our essence into a stranger’s face, who feels refreshed by our being.
Your words are a refreshing way to me – this morning, Cheyenne, and start me down a new day’s trail of wonder.
THe crashing wave led to:
on the magical roulette spin off the youtube dial –
awakening even more wonder of our world again to me. The human in motion at its own speed creates tools to see the magic in hypo and hyper worlds existing along side us in the realities fractaling out in to infinity….
Sometimes our moments are so engulfing we forget the dancing waves.Thanks for the awesome splash, Marga!