I have
the self experiment
that
will say out loud
in
summary to others, as
“it is
what it is”.
Of
course, this is historical
and is
somewhat conclusionary.
So the
deeper frame
behind
that being said is:
how it
is that, it is what it is?
I mean,
whom of me did I hire,
exclusively,
to tend to
the
external world,
that
keeps tract
of all
of this stuff
in a
grand way
and
then holds it for me,
in that
surmise way?
And how
is that holding done
in me,
so that
it
became so strongly that way?
And who
of me,
behind
the me doing this
surmise
and holding pattern,
made
that be so?
And
further more,
how did
they get to be
in
charge of directing
that
who of me, to begin with?
Well and
then, who really are
any of
these of me?
And do
they ever directly relate,
I mean
really relate,
to my
essential me?
(hall of
mirrors,
voices in
a stairwell,
treading
water in a freezing lake,
saying
lines
from
someone else’s script,
vibes
that make no sense,
wearing a
lit miner’s headlamp
to
discover my canary wings,
and socks
that don’t feel
like they
match,
by
thickness to me!)
So here
we are again,
every
moment anew.
And the
self experiment (?),
it is
what it is . . .
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