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A squirrel jumped in the bus window
Well, they have all been part of the giving of this story. Or these stories that have all been lived out in my mind. There doesn't seem to be a way to get it out of there and onto the pages. So many mysteries, so much synchronicity, so many premonitions, so many revelations. I can't keep up with my own self or my own thoughts. I try to get to doing something different but the visions just keep coming in... so quickly. I sit back down to write and I type a line and it goes to nowhere again. They're just little notes on a thought from within.
On some level I wish it were true that someone was recording the story or at least seeing it as it moves through me. Maybe I shouldn't wish that though. That is a dangerous place to be. That would open us up to stranger things like thought policies.
Perhaps that is just what we are creating for ourselves. A policy for our thoughts.
1.) Fear not. 2.) Choose love 3.) Forgive all. 4.) Forgive self. 5.) Doubt doubt.
The Greatest Recording
"...seeing it as it moves through me..." well said, but such records die when we die. The lost lines not strong enough to slip into permanent memory - lost forever. The ultimate autogiobraphy dusts as the last page is finished. - slc