by Dawn L. Ford
Blank
Like this page
…was.
That’s what it feels like. When I wake up, feeling that way.
Each day is different. It’s hard to know which day this will be.
There doesn’t seem to be a pattern, no system to work it out, no rules and regulations.
“Subjective is the only reality, objective is simply a construct,” they tell me… who are they again?
I’m scared of “they”, most days. Scared that they will think I’m bad. Scared that the mark I make on the world will be a sad/bad/mad one. I only want to do good. Want it so bad that most days I do nothing at all. Afraid that the vibrations of my footsteps will cause an earthquake, or a tsunami. Like the butterfly.
But not so beautiful.
Most days.
The vibrations of my footsteps, the effects of my words, my actions, my purchases, my thoughts… all of these are up for evaluation these days, can I do anything right? Well, if I keep thinking that I can’t do anything right then the powerful vibrations of my thoughts will affect me fore sure. (so they say…they?) And if I don’t do things right and I piss people off then the powerful vibrations of their thoughts will certainly affect me for sure.
And if no one thinks about me at all, if there are no vibrations, then where am I then?
Mostly my actions lead to nothing. The mornings are as blank as the evenings and there is nothingness. No vibration. No pulse. No matter how hard I push or what effort I put into things there is no end. No result. No seemingly powerful effect. The harder I try the more I spin my wheels, stirring up my own world, my own emotions, my own existence, with no effect on this world. Or so it seems. It seems, blank.
Maybe if my wings fluttered rather than my feet fell, maybe then I’d have an effect… maybe it’s the gentle touch, the subtle beauty, the simple short and fleeting life that touches the universe the most. Maybe the goal is to be that. Majestic and short lived. Small and light? Maybe.
My healer, who adjusts my vibrations and makes me calm, he is very angry. Maybe he absorbs all of the vibrations himself? And he swears about the “new age” movement and all the nicey nicey thoughts like no one can express their real thoughts, like there is no pride, no war, no honour anymore.
My honour is to flutter. To gently stroke the air enough to create vibrations that will last forever. There is a war in that. And I am very proud.
To be gentle. To be small. To creat fleeting beauty and a magical smile. Is that the change I hope for?
To be small is not to be blank. To be small is the most powerful place to be.
back to top