Musing Again

-
I forgot how big the sun is
in comparison to earth because from here, it is the size of a dime, and makes driving in its glare a chore. The earth could disappear into it and it would be just as brilliant and just as massive, as if a flea landed on the foot of an elephant.

Water doesn't have a fun flavor, but I'm 73% comprised of it and need it to survive. There are dozens of different bottling companies, some from city sources and others from well-springs in the ground. Some are fancier and costlier than the stuff that runs at the twist of a faucet lever in my house. I'm saturated with the choice to drink it, therefore I don't drink it.

There are millions of Bibles printed every year, at least ten physical copies of which belong to me, and every version conceivable is at the ready on my phone alone.

I am saturated with the choice to drink it, therefore I don't drink it.

I don't talk to God [as consistently as I should] because I think it will be difficult or He won't respond as I want Him to, forgetting entirely how refreshing it is to unburden my soul, even if I'm met with silence, to someone that loves me unceasingly and is jealous for my time and my future.

Familiarity breeds contempt.
Familiarity breeds contempt.


But it doesn't have to...


Comments

Post a Comment

🧿 🧿 🧿

Popular posts from this blog

A Missive from the Kitchen

-
Image
The Winter Polaroids by TIE  I really am a summer soul trapped in a winter body.  Winter is so much longer than summer, to me. It stretches the mind out thin, makes it eat itself to survive the cold, dark, lonely nights. When the sun goes to bed earlier, life gets really difficult for me, like so much trauma packed tight over a dark, snowed-in cabin. I used to love winter because it meant visiting with family, people that I only caught glimpses of while growing up the way I grew up. Now I sort of dread it. My worst fears came true this past December, or so I felt. When my family looks at me, I think they see my mother, which I love, but sometimes I think that means I'm not being taken seriously. I long to be understood. That's probably why I write so much, I guess. Over-explain.  We are a special little trio, my mother and sister and I. Two cats and a fella for each girl. We are getting to be girls together! It is a pure and delicate time. I went to sleep too early and wo...
Read more

Oversharing

-
Image
I spend a lot of my time reorganizing things that aren't physically there: images, words, color schemes. Spirit to screen for hours at a time, there's something that feels productive about it, like taking a detour down the notebook and pen aisle at the store when really you're just there for milk. The illusion of productivity, I think it's called.
Read more