<< First Aid Bell Jar >>
2003-05-12, 7:02 p.m.

In the end we all are left with a shell.

It is valid to say that we are alone, and it is this that we have to control. Some choose to hide in darkness, others abandon the issue, and few understand it.

We fill a bucket with sand; the bucket being our brain; the sand being our thoughts. In reality this sand is meaningless, and it is like ankles dragging weights.

This sand is various bills and paperwork stuffed in a kitchen drawer.

This sand is your car, your house, your clothes, your shopping habits, your worries over men, women, children, burning the cassorole, the new cell phone, the car keys, the world, the news, the media, the relationship struggles between celebrity couples, school, lack of school, work, eating, losing weight, and believing that you know yourself.

Entertainment is the major component of these small grains. Without amusement, we would be sloths.

This grand sharade of thoughts and distractions are the 10% of sand we use in the overall bucket. The other 90% is the clay beneith the sand.

The clay is intuition, philosophical inquires, observational analysis, unknown optimism, embrasing existentialism, the destruction of rhetoric, mind/body healing, the disruption of judgement and most of all, the unknown.

Every so often we shovel clay with our sand. The other 90% is tapped lightly. Many want to see more clay in their bucket. It is this desire that gives them a desert of sand before any fresh earth.

It is only until the bucket evolves into a glass cylinder that we can attain more of the clay. This glass cylinder is the higher brain, and keeps the clay from drying out and cracking. Until then, we can just keep on shoveling, hoping that some clay will mix with the sand.

<< Pacing >>

Papercut | Molding | The List | Breaking Linguistics | Mirror| Delusion Fade
Email | Your Mark | Bleed | Your Mother | Thumbnail | Feast | Designer