Throat Frog, Hello

Okay

I began typing
Feeling pregnant with words, yet unknown of gender
Calling forth fluidity of concept
I decided to transition from tiny typing to lap style
Went to retrieve computer from front seats of van
Found it just where I left it
Yet something was different

Slime

Yes that's right
Slime
Slug or snail, I have yet to learn to decipher these intricacies

So now I'm giggling to myself
A weave is approaching

I've become aware of this frog in throat sensation for some time now
The way has beckoned for silence and stillness
For enhanced awareness of automatics
For delicate attention to the nature of thoughts and feelings

I had been, for some time experiencing a full mailbox, no space to be found on the calendar
Inundation with meetings with friends and clocking in on time for eight-hour segments
Mail kept coming to the box and time was chock full
Stuffing the box was the solution for a bit, shoving envelopes in any way possible
Using the exposed stack-ends to hold whatever extra notes could be forced in the cracks

I would get to them all eventually
I put out a box for additionals
Before I could look back it was full to the brim and, you guessed it, it had rained
So I decided to employ the neighbor to build  a pretty box over all of it
If I can't keep up with the mail, opening five envelopes a day and getting terrible paper cuts
I just want something pretty for people to look at as they drive by
They'll never know it used to be a mail box

Okay so I never received that much actual mail
But the sensation was akin
Natural progression led me to simplification

A curiosity of what being would be like
When not constantly trying to manage appointments and appease schedule changes
Insisting on making use of every moment by engaging in activity at every available juncture

The curiosity at the time was subtle

I didn't have a specific idea for how my days would go if I didn't have a forty-hour-a-week job job
I wouldn't have known to wish to reach the point I am at now, as far as the "look of this life"

I've been simplified
And cleared out
I wanted to hear what would reveal itself

As for simplifying, it seems an asymptote
I have so little now
And still mounds and bags to tote around
I do substantially less
Than I would've ever imagined I would like
Than my best sensibilities would suggest
Naturally I have flowed to a quiet part of the river

Here I am grateful
Every day I merge with the miraculousness of existence
This I asked for, I asked to know my connection to spirit at every moment
I am silence and stillness
I am moved to inspired creativity
and reverently hearing the intricate world beating within and around me
I've been exposed to ideas that have blown my socks so far off
I seldom wear socks anymore
Blown my mind so wide open
I do not know to where the reaches extend

& with all this
I hear clearer and frequent
And have been invited to also honor the experience of
Voices and sensations that speak of
Utter dismay
That urge, nay, insist that I'm not doing enough, that I'm not doing it right, that if I did such and such, or was more such and such
I could always be happy,
That everyone would like me more,
That I could have everything I've ever wanted but not gotten

In stark contrast
I've heard reflection
You're so beautiful
You're so wonderful and smart and vibrant
Your life seems awesome, you get to do so many cool things

What do you have to worry about ?

Why do you have doubts ?

Here is where it gets weird

When I try on these reflections . . .

My life is so simple, and beautiful

I am offered amazing opportunities to venture across the varied scapes of earth 

and to gather in communion with unique, open, loving, adventurous humans

I travel with a vivid, kind, helpful, lovely, insightful human who kisses my forehead sweetly at nights

What do I have to worry about ?

I have waved thank you and goodbye to so many extraneous factors

I have an amazingly keen and clear mind

I have uncanny abilities and tendencies to beautify environments

and consciously narrate realities

I have consistent, whimsical, collaborative conversations & experiences with trees, plants, animals, rivers, fire, bicycles, robots, flies . . .

Why do I hear so much doubt in my thoughts about myself  and my experience ?

I don't know about answers

But miraculous glimpses of light shine intimately through confusion and dismay

Inklings of omnipresent peace and contentment tempt inclusion to this dynamic party that could be called 'experiencing life'

I can no longer reasonably blame (or associate) my angst and discontentment on my 9-5, or the rent cost that looms over me

I can no longer reasonably believe that if I had more time in the day, I would then be able to live the life of my hopes and dreams 

I'm sitting here in the in-between

That gooey soft part in between the bones

That point of falling before pulling the parachute where I still don't know if it's going to catch me 

That utter unknown 

no-longer-sense-making-everything-you-built-has-been-demolished,

That you-thought-in-the-back-of-your-mind-it-would-all-work-out-beautifully-and-it-did-but-there-always-seems-to-be-kinks-and-I'd-almost-rather-give-up-and-take-my-cheese-shop-job-back,

That I-thought-I-could-withstand-anything-with-my-adaptability-but-gosh-these-doubtful-self-disparaging-thoughts-about-the-state-of-the-world-really-have-me-convinced-at-times-so-much-I-seem-to-slide-into-oblivion 

I love devotedly experiencing life so amazingly vivid 

I love where I've been, where I am at, what has materialized in my existence 

I love continually opening against all odds and fears 

I have 'achieved' unfathomable simplicity and delight in everyday unfolding

& I know I have something to say, why can't I always just say it ? 

Something I am seeing is this propensity for asking questions of the interworkings of the world around me

When I am asking this seemingly influential questions 

How much am I demanding an answer 

And how much do I want it to look a certain way or to have me feeling a certain degree of certainty as a result 

How much do I (albeit sometimes subconsciously) want this 'answer' to be a B) style, look in the back of your book to receive successful appropriate determination, kind of an answer 

I've been invited to allow /create space for metaphoric insight 

Messages are presented, in various forms through movement and play with the world around me, using various mediums and players
Birds come to wake me out of the haze and people knock on my window when I can't seem to get over myself
Colors shift in the air, shifting with them consciousness
Trees send down gliding leaves speaking of things that this babbling mind can't pretend to make logic of

I've asked to experience reality
I have given my self over to the scopes of existence
Illuminated are concepts and worlds I never knew to guess might exist
And the worlds build upon themselves, making a symphony of moving features manifesting before my very eyes

So I got back in the van after writing here
And the first thing I found, on the floor under the steering wheel
Were the unmistakable gooey remnants
Of what could only be a slime trail scootching slug
Spread out into smithereens

This mind seems to want to give meaning to things in its experience
These thoughts want to claim they know what should or shouldn't be a part of this experience based on some system of understanding and expectation of 'outcome'
Do I have a say in the narration of these concurrences ?
Does fear rule my actions ?