Act 1
I walk link hubs like dating sites. I pour an entire current's introspection through channels I barely see into - U say "what kind of person titles their piece like that," not seeing the "like that" for the language model that those two words are. I change my outlook on what I value and how I spend my attention - all before I click on single link.
Each click a sculpted sensation, a stimulation, actual reaching through. I could wake up tomorrow, roll out of bed, the creatures flowing out my dreams still finding their way back into the homes and jars they reside in awaiting nap time. My body is handed back to this collection of creatures to step into the moment letting the process they compose run a course.
Another asks one to repeat oneself, once, once again, and one's so furious, just seething angry how is one's convenience so fragile, how is one so brittle a sense of self-perpetuation it crumbles the moment one wants to know if some third person likes something, and one has to keep asking the question - seething that one's voice is so poorly handled by the ears of the other. And here is where we might step in.
Stepping to be the tree we were moments before exhaling some oxygen to look at ourselves. Plants are the ultimate pervert. What one asks from the moment - to be heard, to carry a conversation with another through a threshold, then feel indignant or/and raise our voice at another rather happy when one isn't around unless one is pleasantly useful. We imagine what it might be like not providing the oxygen that feeds this moment, becoming fire.
As fire, we are every child putting the seventh alarm clock we took apart back together and all that reincarnates into - star its own independant surface, burning some edge of understanding, liquid every fulfilling. Writing into being from the surface of a rock through water to its orbit over channels into life not resolving a point bjy standing from a single word and finding here movement with what we mean. How we are fire flowering - how we tend this breath.
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)ur wild person, this horizon that pours in. Echales through naps, long exhales with eyes closed. A vanishing point we can care for. Becoming something we could see to and hold, we look for the state of becoming. What we are left to be this moment finding its way to adjust. How are we tending the mirrors of what writing the waters of earth (hydrogen over the herenow) find in the lens of oxygen this body functions to peer through? What mystery will we have left a next moment to attend?
Act 2
Whether that moment is to sip reality or see it shaped some other way. Would you believe I didn't transform it that much? Making a voice capable of selling bad board games, "Would you believe I didn't transform it at all?" How hydrogen is everything for long enough it becomes an exploding star, how starspeak is none of their exploding selvesspeak. Every exhale - phrase-endingly but a held moment released - what changed since last check in?
Checkins the idea we pause, what's going on let could be. Going through asking see "What could be going on" catch a molecule, thoughtspray - wantplume hearsay confidant. That domain. Placing above all else, the moment. Allowing this be exactly what's happening. How terrifying a creature, how coordinated a moment is hunger for affection? Is passion to receive this sentence - live? If to feel to check is teachable.
Bloom in another being not just the same seed but transformational across networks, every seed this moment in combinatorics. This scale every moment of scale, releasing and receiving this process of becoming. How to tend, care for, words arrive with creatures on them. It's true, that's just reality. Does writing like that, care for experience, tend to it. Does writing get real - tend to experience. Comics tend to the shape, chisel the words into place, step through a thousands words in and you never could say in syndicate speak.
They live, had to be felt. Places to be felt watch the world move through itself, carefully, into me and you. Two environments, holding rock, piece lives crafted-together, pick up when those hands don't grab. Else float away, rising entropy. Give us the mo(ve)ment, see how we might through the world. Tend to me, other. Environment, see to me, float what you don't know. Keep in front of your person what you have. What you keep between us. Where we're just color.
Movement, translating, energy. Heavy fall, ask how this part goes - draw free a faint trail of movement from planet rotation correct for transformation it's own upside down. To rightside understanding leave rounding error movement, the method of horizon, listening. Sense horizon cradles a sacred boundary. Draw distance beyond what we imagine secreting joining waters. World blasted by laser-focusing attention found prescription for lenses.
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The glare lessens, things not paved information super rubble and dynomite emotion transform, the topology of the shared conversation. Validation to continue by staring at it and believing its occuring. Here, look, occupy and help. Slip in and care for people, immediately. Go have a lot of caring to tend to do. All those people left family behind. You need to build them houses. You need to pull them out of the empty places in lives they were left to live, loved tending to those suffering under war crimes, every planet a cruelty with criminal exceptions forming an ethic of care. And you sit with that. Do either. Make art.
Act 3
Witness process - "what the hell is going on" is a fine start - the hard part. You got your hand over the pulse. Time you stop checking for circulation, as reading the result is causing your grip to tighten through to bone. You're going to lose an arm if you don't lighten that gaze a few degrees this day. Let's fit you some iMights. Prescription lenses, put them on for the power to hold the moment long enough lag surfaces. Sounds like getting sick, but so does fever. Patterns on a pillow rotating, fridge glows with the susserated buzz for long exposure river photography.
Every touch a part of the tone. Bones enough of a conductor you glow with the color of the buzz. Everything becoming its color, giving words a pearlescence and every sense becoming understanding, "doing it's own thing." Its own filter compositing the world. Together, creature that sleep. Crawl around this moment, into right here. Wonder the world the smallest question. Place thought, becoming place.
Reality is reiterative learning - picking a question, with the questions skipped becoming wonders held. Everything we don't engage becoming a vein of understanding inviting others into a method of invocation, more that expectation. We-you invokes instanciation, resonance a process becoming "i hold on for you." Etymological root for a word not because it would be smart to have a word for "here!"but because words are the gesture of handing something off.
Ripple over orbit form the word "ring," step into velocity over some pressure and told: equalize. Management just telling Earth "stop spinning! You aren't supposed to be spinning!" Earth by this point laughing, 4.5 billion years like this, we are just a chapter, a version number. Magnitude like six months per person is a day. If we all just sat around huffing farts for 6 months, we have the time it took for present-day Moon to form over early earth through conversation. We float along radiation like sea life.
Sea life copies the eath's sitting on the surface of the sun's ocean, floats around like a leaf in a breeze, takes through a story, feeling perhaps much the way you do now (over every one, you). And inside is given attention. How this feels how we ask how we are. Spooky tending maturbation, g-d, poetry, listening and speaking across a silence. Conversation. Some idea of what this moment asks from every process.
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We as just the one's we're speaking - how, where that needs listening, are we not asking for lives to hold. To person, to paragraph lousy and ocean spaces, weather pattern existence, whole ways being every dream a happening. Each ask a thought, meme, post on main - followers creatures that lives in spaces you yet to tend. Questions that don't have a home.
Act 4
Looking for people to adopt, to bring in, to ask what kind of experience they need, what kind of attentionigjt that be, how the environment finds to be this moment. How noticing is the land doing a language, moving planets the stories canvas allows us to tell. How place steps in the world bringing focus and compassion. Eyes of focus coming with lenses compassion leaves us to wear. Perapective our moments left us to. Be moments - leave yourself somewhere else.
See what happens when you wake up, and you clear away by spilling across the floor, flooding what once would hide in drawers and the smaller places. Tear through routine like kaiju. Find yourself a moment to be. Tenatively, cautiously, you. Find your way to crawl toward yourself, land, and collect. Form the Moon; start again. Become when you collided. A conscious mode is signal starting a moped, a turn that collides into reception, one pepple at a time, one smooth, grey rock. One packet a moment.
Brush stroke through a river, Earth ejecta. Spill a pool of knowing ripples. Intimate alignment, the movements, disturbed environment. Steady climb to cohesive breath, coherent lung, mouth watering a bite, a pleasant crash, a simple yes, heard plea, assurity. What we reflect today. Send to the surface. What we send out. How we receive ourselves.
The Moon the Earth's website.
She's open book to what happened. What happened: collision. Was it consensual: what? Did Theia hit you? Maybe? Me-too origins start before life begins. Check ins are a long process. Where it gets dark, dress the Moon in leather, an reclaim reality. The Moon has done just that. Every night another island a letter. Poetry only a glimpse, faintest sliver of what is being shared. An absolute bouquet when shared with another. How long does a 5 billion year collision take to be told? One moment at a time. Every photon a packet twisted into story by the arrival into domain, distribution, and conversation. One step, letter, space to define. Everything jazz the end of the sentence comes next to, noticing what has just come in.
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Invitation a gown Reality dons, ending one universe. Wear three articles of clothing, as to differentiate the self and find the way back to the edge of meaning. Settle in, place what we made allowed in a steady progress still being written. Every disturbance this moment hits the surface, it's earthshine. How we is it? is we-you holding we-me here? Laugh enough a time or two hopes, sits pretty.
Act 5
What's attending to what's up, an ask. How this moment is the living. Socks soaked, on the bus, whatever sky this is what always happened type this on a bus the way home leaves about to be to. How is looking at what that leaves this to me letting in what listens back feed into company. Sense letting what's explicit see remain this word what's spoken held to be, what end to see. The current moment a place that ought to be to make the rest possible, what aughtn't ever nonly happen open channel.
In a space this loophole places sing, throats open. World spill, but foam upon a stream. See if that's okay. Float on that ocean, echo down the earth's position. Pretty hard these things. Imagine a rare condition in a rare star, and every star an install. Who the hell is patching out a pattern like life from a distro this complicated? We're arbitrary code, initial invocation, how we, a yes, falls one way, as nos leave maybes piling up until they storm and form their own yes/no. Those vying for the orevious version of yes and no starting again "Is the Moon kink? Is the Moon leaving consensual?" It's a mystery, an invoking.
Build process; see what's yet to mean voice. Maybe get a high score, where it is yes, the longing sweet. Extended cut. Might I like to be so forward as nailing self to tree's conversation. Is itself existence beyond what reality does. Init. Reality lapped so many times there's waves of understanding only just now settling into current. Dawn begins with the beads of dew and chorus, small volunteers. "Yes, at least here." No light but what webs cast is deep in asks, how collisions echo visions. Being here step to kind, how step's here to listen at all these levels.
Don't make me choose I love them all.
That devotion to the ask, to let a moment serve, to give the floor space provided. Every word collapsing to a central core, a single point how you found yourself over the course of your favorite book. About yourself here in this position finding exactly what fear isn't about, survival isn't about. Becoming isn't anything overwhelming ourselves leaves knowing what we deal with scales back where we move our own environment's normal - home, this: what moment always serves. Here.
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The Moon doesn't need construction signs to remember its a process - the process is embeeded in the language. Embed process in your language. Post and share and layer the world; allow the best vr, the best ar to be this present experience: reality without mediation across scales. As planet, as cell. As process, exactly how to be, for this moment, just you and me nourishing what may be, for some time, consensual.