for s:
oh, do tell
of losing the self?
even for just a moment,
losing it
drops the muscles in my face;
makes me forget my name.
if i’m not a consistent thang
then why don’t i wash down the drain?
why do my cells keep hugging and clinging,
to the one they think they are?
why does my phone ring?
why do i still wear clothes?
can non dual get me out of taxes
out of traffic
out of laundry?
no reason
not to drift away,
but it does only
seem fair
that I I I I can get off.
are you with me?
everyONE?
you birds must share your flying,
you rhinos, your horns;
the siren (hear it, here it!)
rushing to the accident
calling us all
to flow together in one soup
to fill the belly,
for there’s a
the wHole in the bottom of the sea –
when I am no longer me.
Life as Improv 
It’s all so annoying! 😊
🙂
What a fabulous flummox that was! I am chuckling as I read, as I’m sure when you wrote, and I am also finding mySelf (um…) agreeing with yourSelf, saying yea. Yea. Why? Huh? Why?
Sometimes I wonder if, when we hug or shake hands, our cells cling among each other. I wonder if our Selves are also hugging, or laughing, or playing cards above us.
I love this flummox. I say let’s have soup at our dinner….
Such an awesome round of go fish we are having, trying to hold a googolplex of cards in our imaginary hands.So thankful, I am, to have you laugh with me when I am slaphappywack 🙂
There’s something really breathtaking about this, I feel different after reading it…
change from within, as Hariod’s clip indicates. I feel on the outer fringe of incoherence and it rocks me deeply that others can meet me in my cryptic scratchings, at all. Bowing, east.
… in the same boat, perhaps …
…you are quite prescient with your comment, bert…i am stepping out onto a floating abode, literally, in fact; i think we are very well in some same boats! 🙂
This is so clever and beautiful Marga; and by way of a link to your words, Tiramit’s dhamma footsteps and Bert’s boat, here’s a little offering on oneness from England:
Hariod. ❤
i am awed by your adeptness for tying threads together so swiftly and with such a twinkle in that eye. xo! m
Where does this self responding end, and the One who wrote this post begin? Once our facial muscles slacken, the wave rippling around the stadium is invisible. All seas are connected. No hands raise. No voices shout. Something travels with infinite speed, going nowhere. Our cells pick up the signal, but don’t know there’s something called a self that thinks it’s in charge. They just sense the weather, and respond. Feel the ripples. Feel the boat move gently upon the water. Who rocked it…? 🙂
Michael
I was so touched to find some footage that shows each of us, together and also as our own little droplets as once. Looking good, are we!