Where do we go?
Is frequently asked
But a question
Is who are we now
And where do we live?
In other people’s heads?
In a social scroll
Turning over and over
A bunch of tiny hearts
Cycling and dangerous to the mind that thinks
Where do we live
According to who
How do we become just one person?
But we can’t
Split metaphysically into a thousand tiny particles of energy
We pour ourselves into something entirely virtual
People think it is reality but at most
We are simply the host of a mad Mad Hatters tea party at the bottom of the rabbit hole
We drink the “smaller” tonic and we do indeed shrink
Another version of our being is stripped away every time we post
What is post?
What is like?
What is avatar?
What is any of this but a construct that didn’t even exist
Twenty years ago?
I think of my Mother
Her hands in red soil
Planting a tree
That many will never see
Sewing patches on shirts
That hung on shoulders she could hug
To the wind
Her brain eventually split into a million different pieces
She didn’t know who she was
But her soul knew itself
And it was whole
What will happen to me?
I carry the seeds of forgetfulness already
Vigilance is necessary
I can’t control losing my mind
But misplacing my soul
Would be a catastrophe.
*header picture is a photo from last week-end. I was up at the gorge and climbed Bulimba Bluff at dawn to eat my breakfast overlooking the national park.
I find solace in the real world. It anchors and tethers the mind to truth. A truth that cannot be tampered with via Social media feeds and echo chambers. A bird is a bird and the mountain you sit upon is ancient.
All the stupidity of humanity falls away and something timeless and reliable becomes apparent. My soul surfaces and I feel whole again. Solid.