3 a.m. With a Side of Ramble

We dwell in a humanity of appearances. What is observable is smoke and mirrors, subject to interpretation and imagination. We form a fictitious world of loves and hates, desires and longings, hopes and fears, secrets, aversions, and a million other invisible assessments. The only truth is oneself and only you can know yourself. How is that for 3 a.m. coffee with a side a rambling?

S and I head west, road-tripping to see a few bands. I've unintentionally left my favorite hoodie at work after letting someone borrow it, and I am not at all comfortable having to travel without it. Its lightweight flexibility and all-black sensibility is comforting in most situations. I'd make us stop at work to get it before leaving but it's in entirely the wrong direction of our destination.

Our direction is correct but it requires leaving a few perceived comforts where they are.

There is another way to see and I'm guilty of building up a picture of the world which only exists to me. Light is merely one octave of vibrations out of at least fifty other known octaves of vibration traveling in the ether at the same speed. From this one octave I have masked myself; I have carved my own restrictions in the name of hiding from something more true.

What vast coherence do we miss because we allow our senses to split the totality of things?

In last night's dream, I was rescued from a gruesome and violent situation by someone in a mask. He said a recognizable code word so that I would know to follow his lead to freedom.

I've been intoxicated behind my mask, distracted by riddles, forgetting that I began as a connected and unified being.

We are invisible, really, and we are not we. We are this. And it's about time I started living in the manifestation of both idea and cause. Let us now look behind the curtain, fellow travelers.