A reply to Salva

With a mystic, or as a mystic? Either way, no. you are correct in the awareness part- i am aware of the knowledge, i possess the knowledge- we all do- but, you are also correct that it remains as glimpses. A glimpse. and what i want my dear friend, is sight. clarity. show it to me…a voice whispers in my head just now at the end of that thought, “and it does”. THAT is the mystic, i suppose. So maybe the mystic is with me, or is me. the voice just whispers, “yes.”

we are always in our own way i think and writing is where i move out of the way and take my place. i think sometimes in my blogs and not my poetry, you can see that struggle clearly. how i start lost and then eventually let that glimpse, glimpse me instead. how it pushes me out of the way. but poetry, when prose takes me and the rhythm starts to march in my head…i just surrender and the moving over, moving out of the way, becomes THE way and we do a little dance…then she leaves me spinning on the floor…as if i had closed my eyes and when i opened them again, it was just me, twirling aimlessly and lovingly on the ballroom of my soul.

and yet…
hidden and unapproachable.

when i first started to reply to this i thought, YES! unapproachable! but i don’t know if that fits. finicky perhaps, but upon sitting down to write to you and process the thoughts that you evoke in me, which i am eternally grateful for, i realize that it is often i who remain unapproachable and knowledge patiently taps on my door. is it hidden…yes, but it is not hiding. do you believe in the ego Salva? that part of us that is conditioned to protect the imagined weaker parts of us and project the made up and expected parts of us? the part of us that exists nowhere but in our mind and yet, is everywhere in our lives….like a little magnet, attracting the made up story life of us? the ego hides that knowledge.
humility is perfection.
how i want to stop at that thought…
you my friend are a mystic in your own right…and this moment, that statement, IS mystical. a silent epiphany brought on by a stranger, whose soul knows mine.
thank you.
m

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