How I Think I Think.

I rely much on this distracted humanity, searching for meaning, purpose, slighting personal ability with raised arms and bowed head. Sometimes, i just wish to be filled by another, to share them. I speak whole honestly, open sincerity. Speaking, yearning towards other un-plunged minds, mind unplumbed. Give me this sane, naive humanity. I feel like shaking them awake, roughly. I long for long contact. I love and miss Lisa. I love her tender support and slow new reality, she slowly becomes the vessel. She shape shifts into something deep and capable.

All these people headed somewhere... I wonder where they are going, what thoughts led to that action, and what thoughts spawn from the place that never stops spinning quickly forward. Do they feel forced, rushed, dragged, choice-less? When they get to where thy head, where their brains point, what feelings spring from former unviewed well? While they perform action after action, do they think about placing feet correctly, clouds above, the destination ahead, or do they fill the uncertainty lurking behind laid plans? I live now; too now. I need impulses to spring this frame forward. This fine frame lives now, lived then, and may not live again. So, on this side I fulfill the present, plan little for future living.

Stranger, what thoughts spin, noticed? I want to know everything in a person. Words contain apology, excuses. The truth: every action bares the weight of conscious, lightning quick reasoning. Premeditation, a dwelling thought, compels prominence and with it, power. How, then, does blame work? and fault? Society, Children, Parents, sheep skin rugs, bacon burgers, trips, no trips. It comes down to capacity to commit harm. Some minds become sick through environment internal/external. Catalysts close or open paths. We pretend no fault, but every action sparks reaction, aping, disregard, antagonism. We cannot guess the direction reactions take. We can barely divine and define self-same actions.

Actions bare the weight of intention, but intertwine with everyday acted out life. Had I been Indian, I maybe would have lived a Buddhist life, or atheist, Hindu, Sikh. I am my DNA, my parentage, mixed and spun through complex interaction, surrounded similarly by enigmatic DNA spun somewhat similarly through complex interaction reflecting next action. So, dear, soft mind, the love of thought, especially owned thoughts and body/brain action means just that--interest with no tinge of ownership. I am me, I own nothing, only remain entrenched in me while bumping into same you, unique in probability, and possibility.

We, although near in vicinity, can hope, wish and churn words with actions, and only end alone (though near or similar). Alone, unique, only the same in broad brushstrokes. We are shaped by memes while shaping memes for future children. I cannot hope for anything more than rich thought, thick, bubbling tranquility, fierce rower in tossing storm. Electricity flows, floats, chemically preserving plant and animal existence. How lucky I am to be my brain, my childhood, my soft exploration.