without avoid, an impression.

whether existing in a new space or without avoid, coming again to an old place, there are always small fascinations tucked away on shelves, memorable treasures buried beneath a mess and something to re-see, to re-experience, something to become familiar with. that is what i enjoy most about homes, the intimate space of a life spread open. that is what i enjoy about evolving, the truth that a character takes on new appeals. and with aging how one may acquire more passiveness but in turn, have deeper and more thought consuming interests.

i am taken by marvels - the rush i get when situated in my bedroom with nothing more necessary than the low hiss of candles and no sightings but blackness until my eyes become adjusted to an inner light and strength. admittedly, i recognize that on the membrane of my being is a soul pushing outwards and injecting tangibilities with ideations - so objects are less about the thingness and more about the attributed impression. perhaps it is me objectifying subjects so they are more romantic in nature than initially or immediately conceived. but maybe it is just my way of encouraging my heart to feel most, to know more.

eying the bookshelves, i spotted "wherever you go, there you are" by jon kabat-zinn. the book is separated into parts - explicating the thematic of meta, which means to go beneath and in a sense (to me) beyond. each part is more like a clue to being wakeful and in doing so, acquiring mindfulness.

the author recommends being in a space and listening to naturalness, that is, to have nothing that can be turned on or off around. i read this while i was outside on the patio connected to my bedroom. i tried to hear and there it is was: the keynotes of the pond's falling water, the repetitious hum of a car stretching down the street, leaving and being replaced by another, and the steady whine of yardmen's machinery. beneath all this was a silence that did not exist. and inside of me was a heart's beat that was not to be heard, but to be felt. and now is the noise of rain, falling in a surge of tears, outside the window.