The sun is perfect and you woke this morning. You have enough language in your mouth to be understood. You have a name, and someone wants to call it. Five fingers on your hand and someone wants to hold it. If we just start there, every beautiful thing that has and will ever exist is possible. If we start there, everything, for a moment, is right in the world.
Ever notice how when you’re hanging out with someone, you’re not only hanging out with a body but also with a history. Ever felt it too?
Like you’re walking down the sidewalk alongside this field of planted experiences; memories of childhood, first kisses, love, tragedy, heartbreak, heartmend, epic wins and epic failures. So much personal history at your disposal just at arm’s length.
And you can tap and trigger these memories through conversation.
Some blossom like a flower.
Some explode like a mine.
And soon the totality of the field next to you begins to expand once you realize that you yourself are dropping seeds into that soil. You’re like a fleet of Maple leaves hovering swiftly across. And then you begin to wonder what kind of seeds you’re dropping. Will they flower or explode?