We’ve all had moments when we have wished for something that is not in us. Things we’ve seen in others. Things that make them happier than us. I am having one of those moments.

I wish I could put things into little boxes in my head. Little coloured boxes that can be easily sorted every morning when I wake up. Good memories in bright orange boxes….bad memories in deep blue boxes…wishes in green boxes…forebodings in black boxes….Boxes that I can classify and throw into the background when what’s in them becomes too much to handle…..selectively viewing this world, with the bravery of my realilty being censored by what box I am clutching to, at the moment.

But this fantasy is far from the reality in my head. I know what I know…and I know that I know too much. ‘Too much’ not because I can’t handle what I know…’too much’ because I know that to handle is one thing…to act upon what I know is another…and so many times I feel like my hands are tied by a million cuffs….with people I know inadvertdently throwing keys to the cuffs one by one into a deep ocean …….It makes me wonder what’s the point in knowing so much…There is this insatiable urge to go beyond..to explore..to dive deep..to get lost in the moment…but that urge is always diseased by old patterns, while old patterns are exactly what I am trying to walk away from….

Its not that I have special powers to know…it’s just that I don’t put things into little boxes in my head…everything is evenly placed before me..always….and I take notice of the million connections happening….It’s sometimes overwhelming to see people leaping before looking…looking at what I have already looked at…..

And at times I shrug under the weight of knowing that magic of the moment is shadowed by a ‘tell me something new’ feeling. The romance of the moment is seldom duplex….Everytime the child’s eyes look out with the ‘me too’ eagerness, shit happens and then the ‘why me’ question can only be answered by the adult’s ‘knew it’ sarcastic laugh…

Oh, the boxes…how I want them….