I made a nice drawing today. I thought you’d want to know and be happy with me. Because I know this about you, you are happy when I’m happy and that increases my happiness to be more happy than can be experienced here.
And I know why this is true. You are the part of me not locked up in a little box. You are the one whose breath takes in the eternal, the infinite, the marvelousness of being.
And not anything else. So it doesn’t matter, does it, about all those flitting pictures picturing that “anything else.” No, it matters not at all.
My new swirly design is lovely. I like where it took me and I like how it worked along with me. We were doing it together, I could feel it, I could see it unfold.
(Was that you drawing with me?)
The word I’ve been thinking of for you lately is Presence. I’m not the only one that uses that word for you. But today, for the first time, I asked you about you, in order to better define you for myself because a name for you separates us. I know you little realize how much of you I have forgotten since you feel I am still there with you. Oh, how much of you has become blurred and blurry having been superimposed with so much of that “anything else” world.
We are thinkers you and I. What I need, is to understand how you think. Do you know what I mean? I do a lot of thinking, and all around me I am aware of more than my own thinking and it’s all only a big cloud of confusion that engulfs and weighs me down. I can’t hear what is real, I don’t remember what is true. I’m just not home in gentle peace and quiet joy. Peace. You know, your peace. I hear too much noise. Coming from me. And them. I just want to be home. In myself. A place I strangely call a Presence when you are only what I am, after all.