Thursday, April 7, 2011

An Aria

I love me.

There are many ways to indicate what seems to be a person, experiencing a vague condition called "life". One can say this, here, now, being. Some people say "I am", which is redundant. (Of course "I" is--so much so, that it isn't!) But "I" is tall and often cold. A better word--a more intimate, curvy, non-statuesque and familiar one--is me. 

To put this in the proper context, think of me as an ultimately universal term for everything encountered in the course of a day. Look at me. Feel me. (Does that bring on a feeling of discomfort? Do I really need to capitalize me, turn it into Me? Whatever works!)

Suspend descriptions like "couch", "cramp", "wall", "dog", "human", "thinking", or "it" for a moment, and call it me. Me, me, me, me, me, me. Are you singing, yet? Everything experienced is me, regardless of how you feel about it, your opinions around it, the stories you tell...those, also, are me.

That lovely or annoying person over there--me, being me; your irritation, also me. The fact (me) that you (me) can't possibly ever understand, truly, what is happening within that person's psyche (me). Change (me), permanence (me), grass, hungry, ouch, ahhh, ?, !, wtf (me). Cellular me, galaxied me, science-math-art-language me, sex, drugs and rock-n-roll me. Oh, and fear, bliss, neutrality...me.

Not to emphasize me too much...but, in me, all things appear. Alone, they are me; collectively, me...with a background of me. Me is all there ever is, was, or will be. There is so much me that me cannot be special in any way, while all especially emphatic conditions are also, very comfortably, me. Are you sliding into "not me" yet? That's ok. "Not me" is also me. So is me-ness. There is nothing, actually, other than me.

So, wherever you go, there me is.

This is a fun game, even though terrible things (me) are happening along with the sublime (me). Death (me), birth (me) in time and space (me and me). Supersaturated in me, is this me.

Whew.

Alright. Now that I-you-he-we-she-they-it-this-that is firmly established as ME, me can play at being silent, not saying me. Sssshhhh.

Even still and unmoving, me doesn't go away.

Just being--even less--me. 

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