When there is a real question, a dissonance

Between human-self and world, answer it. Sit down with a bowl of soup or a cup of tea and answer it.

I am walking through venice, trying to get my guts back, to have a feeling for acting in the world. I see the spinning cars, these hunks of metal pulled from the earth. How can its shiny status motivate me? It is even sickening to my stomach to think I will have one once, that this, my truck, a whole lineage behind it, its blood almost but never fully to be paid for its removal from the earth, that it will not be able to carry me all the way.

And things and objects and beauty and sex and even a home on the hill in the pacific palisades, I do not believe it. I don’t believe that dream. The only thing I can believe in is community, to fight for, or strive aGainst my own internal entropy, is community. Love. Family. A place for my family that is and that is yet to be. A place where the blooms are seen and felt and our children learn and play there, oh how the sun shines on their backs and lights their faces!

I cannot live in this world. I cannot understand it. But I want to live in it, move through it, play in it towards my garden, the fresh water.

It is part of the limitedness of my mind. I cannot conceptualize living so spread out like this, not knowing so many of the people I sit down to eat with.

I can understand the city. The walking city. The city that knows why it is a city; how it serves its people, what their purpose is, what its purpose is, why we are here.

I’ll keep looking.

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