The gift of sight is precious.
And the gift of sight quite limiting.
Energy bent,
refracted,
contorted,
to fit the confines of the mind.
Even with eyes closed,
the mind is seeing.
All of it fabricated.
If the image banks once overflowing were purged,
all unseen,
what would remain?
The seer.
The knower behind and beyond the images.
The opportunity to reimagine,
as in dreams,
as in daydreams,
as in reality,
all for the sake of being seen.
Sometimes I just don’t realize the sheerness of the stories I wear.
How they seem to protect me and at the same time be filled with holes.
I wear them to create a sense of separateness, of control, and the ability to shield myself from others.
I can never truly hide from that connection. A part of me will always remain exposed.
Perhaps a part of me pokes out beyond the edge hoping to be seen so that I can come out from under the stories.
When the veil of story is pulled back authentic, vulnerable, unfiltered connectedness can begin.
Monday Mindfulness 