I am a fan of the braid. Seated in the dark, once again the only light is that of this hand-sized screen. Enough to make typing possible I woke from a dream—so many dreams! that may be telling me I’ve reached a limit. Cryptic dreams can be slighting or hinting at some truth.
My gut, the seat of truth, is churned up. What is truth and is reality the same as truth? While reflecting or brooding upon my “searching and fearless moral inventory” a question stopped me in my quest my question: Do I know that why I feel or think life is is not the same as what life really is?
The answer is not always. And when exploring it through my Hawaiian lens real life IS a braid or triangulation of all three: my actions teach my mind (Mai ka Hana ka Ike); my na’au is the seat of intelligence where my ancestors inform me; aloha is the intelligence with which I greet life.
So as fall comes and then equinox the seat of my intellect digests slowly the complexity of my life. A little less food may be part of the story I have do many experiences, dozens of books of fiction, and a new pair of lenses (new glasses) to adapt to.
An old favorite drawing of mine is newly collaged and awaits being a call to our community.
The meatloaf I made last night, but didn’t eat was rich with our freshly harvested garlic, Pete ate two servings and the vardo is thick with the smell.
Life’s not perfect; it’s life.
My long hair hang loose more gray and white than black it is an unbraided reality. The potential is there. Seeing the strands of my process here makes space for …the mystery. That may be exactly what’s needed on this ‘ole moon.
