Muted by Atmosphere

Subzero temperatures expose starlight in another way. Is the view more honest? I think about a radical authenticity whereby nothing in or of me lacks agreement. Actions can align with words easily enough but it is more difficult to bring each thought in congruence with the next thought and so on. How many times do I contradict what I am thinking? How often are the stars muted by atmosphere?

When we don't tell the truth it is because we don't trust Cosmos or our place in it. The cost might be too great. The fallout, too devastating. The lack of truth creates conflict within ourselves which spills out onto others as projection. I am guilty of robbing peace from you and myself.

I am swimming down, down, down to see what is at the bottom and so far, it looks like something unblemished.

Grandmother isn't eating after hip surgery. Uncle Bill has called the 12 siblings down to Florida to spend time with her as the end comes into sharp view. This matriarch, my matriarch, is the superintendent of a vast clan. The world will shift upon her passing. My father will grieve in a way that is foreign to himself. For him, no woman was higher than she. None deserved his respect or admiration as she.

It is for my father that I swim towards honesty.

It is for us all.