The clock in the square strikes a happy chime signaling 10am, then curiously shifts to a monotonous, somber bell to count out the hours. Even the clock seems to be disaffected by the persistent agitation that is covid, sighing as it goes through the motions, perhaps emptied of the usual spirit that would fill the space here with communal bustle and hubbub. The fountain nearby splashes meditatively, layering a touch of white noise onto the atmosphere.
Author: Trance
Artist. Writer. Truth seeker.
Walk out into the river, and the surround sound of cascade and flow immerses the senses. Suddenly, thought is vanquished by nature’s echoes and vibrations blending across the frequency spectrum, favoring the range usually reserved for the human voice, whether from within or without.
This collapse we’re living through has been a long time coming. Every aspect of our lives is experiencing an unsettling shakeup, and nothing will escape the pull of this singularity.
Desire engages the infinity of the universe. Our programs and conditions limit their expression and flow.
For a long time, I used to be calculating with how and when I would give or share my love, energy and attention. “What about my needs?” would inevitably creep in to my otherwise genuinely generous state of mind, degrading and demoting a caring presence into a transaction. “This is a one-way relationship…me to them. It’s all about them.” is another frequent scarcity-based belief, a condition, a program I’ve learned is not my own. I borrowed it at some point, and it has poisoned my process, my beingness, my authenticity in critical moments.