Like a belt on our gut, a view of heaven will appear when given enough room. Constructed, fertile, and found mostly in bleak exaggeration, our monolith of experience weighs heavily on us all. Ringing chords/notes be damned, the wholeness of a piece toes along these thoughts. Supreme in its aboutness. The sound of everything & nothing places all sound in everything. Kinda weird how the moon can’t just give up on the earth, huh? Kinda weird how the earth can’t give up on the moon, huh? Linked like fence chains.
We lack community. We’re exhausted, disenfranchised, & separated. God’s lost its mysticism, and now we slink towards all churches, not holy but anything. We seek it all, hidden, trying to just be okay. I say, slap your blender and speak to your neighbors. Let the end of As to the World ring as loudly as you need it to ring. Then, listen for silence. For as long as you need. Something will come of this. If only for the fact that we will make something come from this. There are no answered questions. Only exploration. So, just be what you can be, as often as you can.
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