What if we were to move at geologic time? What would that mean for our human bodies?
If water carves a canyon, and a thousand years is a thousandth of a second, does the blood in our veins carve us? There is immense stillness and longness and absence of self when you abstain from breathing. Maybe it’s the closest thing to invisibility we have. In pretending this here body does not exist for any time up to a split second is to temporarily roll our eyes outward and to become unaware of our ego, our driving focal point. What is the color of that 2.5 kg weight through my eyes and its feel through my fingers, its smell through my nostrils. Who gave us ownership to these things anyways?
If we were to move at geologic time, how many breaths would we take in a lifetime? If my lungs were the size of a bus I might only need to breathe once a day. Or if they were dime-sized, how many dozens of life-giving gasps would I take?
I wonder if stone feels those tinglies of a foot returning to feeling. Do they, too, feel enlivened?
Take me! Take me! screams a sandstone speck, one day she hears in return.
Maybe they don’t feel because there is no I. Is there anything in the universe that doesn’t have a center?
What a shame we can’t see canyons be carved from stone.
What a shame the canyons can’t see us be formed.
Too slow. Too fast.
How many soulmates will I encounter in this lifetime?
How many are there that I’ll never meet?
And how many are there from the beginning of time?
Good thing the stone saw us both.
Everything is energy at its core. We know water carves rocks, even wind. How is our own breath, our own blood carving us? How do sounds carve us?
We are worn by our movement patterns, the way we sit and walk and jump for joy. Does how we breathe refine the shape of our lungs?
What can our own physicality tell us about the ways we’ve been worn by the world and our inners? .
Are living beings just a result of energy decaying as quickly as easily as possible? Are we the path of least resistance? What would’ve been the alternatives?
If the electric pulses of our brain were paired with a sound, what would be the average frequency of my day? Would they harmonize? How many pulses are happening in a given moment? Many at a time, I assume. What would be the song of sadness? Of serenity?
What cost am I willing to pay for this person? Dax brought this up in an Experts episode some time ago. A similar sentiment to you don’t worry about the things you don’t tolerate. Essentially: Just pick up the damn dog shit instead of dishing excuses you and mom both know to BS. Less bitching that way.
Wholeness: Moving my body is meditation prep. Meditation is creative fuel. Creative fuel drives work and play.