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The human experience is fundamentally messy. Often its all just stumbling through this life thing trying to hold it all together. Sometimes (moonrise over last night’s clouds, dancing music retrospective, being in/on the water) we can just be in the moment we’re in.

Fear/discomfort and curiosity are at the core of much of my own awkward behavior (in totality, in life I guess). I get freaked out. It gets awkward.

I’m up for the challenge. I try hard to figure it out (the monkey with the rubik’s cube thing). The bigger the feeling, the more worthwhile it seems to hash it out. If it seems like just trying to force a solution (to all the questions) I back off.

Sometimes the reflex is to sever things internally. More often acceptance and release seems the better call. That takes more effort.

So anyway, there was a stir. I was curious about it. I toggled between the desire to investigate it or ignore it.

The discomfort was a spark. Something was ignited. I wrote about it. I erased it. I painted it.

I wanted to talk about it, recontextualize things, press restart. I wasn’t graceful about it. So I (tried to) back off.

I think there’s more to it. I’d like to know what that is. I don’t have an expectation about outcome. Mostly an excited and deeply uncomfortable curiosity of something more to be revealed.


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