So you’ve come back, have you? You think whenever it’s convenient, you can come here, sit and reflect? Is that really what you’re doing? You know when you come, there’s no escape from what’s been written on the wall. Some call that memory’s wisdom – whatever it is, it’s always there. I wonder if you can hear me silently pointing to the message long-repeatedly-etched-ago?
I often marvel, because it seems you keep asking the same questions? Wrestling with the same variation on a theme. And – maybe even worse – lately you don’t seem to be too concerned with what’s happening beyond your own lives – seems you get more diminished the further you focus on your own boat while failing to recognise others are also on the water …
Oh don’t get all indignant. You came to me, remember? I’m not here to coddle you or create tales and stories to make you feel better or worse. I have no investment in what you choose to do or not to do! I do, however, get irritated, even frustrated, when it’s clear you keep hearing the same thing, but really don’t seem to be listening!
People are hurting everywhere – the choices you make impact one another, and not just in some fairy-tale way, but in metaphors that translate intention and attention into reality. And if you’re neither attentive nor alert, bad things habitually happen. Song lyrics inspire and invite a new dance, but you have to actually want to get what’s being said in this space and place.
Sure this is a dream, maybe it’s a mirage, or just another invention. Boats floating on water, side by side, maybe even touching, but no one looks to see the other traveller. You’re so focused on the glowing light in your hand, tapping this, swiping that, you fail to recognise your tears and theirs create a rhythm as they fall into the water’s cadence … almost sounds like harmony.
So why are you here? Have you really asked yourself that? And if you’re sitting with me, it’s going to be scary, unnerving and … awe-filled. But if you stay long enough, maybe you’ll concentrate … you might even remember and recall those who have come before. They wrestled and made choices that shouted down the tempting tune of shining baubles and toys, jingles and distractions, and neon gods selling empty promises.
But they’re gone now and all that is left are those walled messages. They point to a different goal, different vision. But – even here – it’s easy to keep doing what you always do, because you at least know what you’ll get. But each time you come back, each time you wrestle at the water’s edge, pulling your boat out to find others, some part of you must want something different than what you know … maybe this time will be different … and, here, I will always be repeating what you’ve already heard hoping you might finally listen …