I remember that game*. I play it a lot now, without meaning to. I perceive a lot more movement now while at rest, and more stillness now when I’m most active. Many, many paradoxes. I thought it’d be the thing to do to share a smattering of all kinds of things.

I can’t see myself using this as mainly any one single thing–so I hope you’re fine with the hodge-podge, and allowing the space for anything, and life, to be whatever it is. And perhaps experimenting to alter some aspects, to change various patterns that aren’t leading to the desired outcome. My desired outcome is happiness, and sharing it with others.

Actually, it’s more of a process.

I knew that long ago, in a galaxy much like this one. It is one of the only things I know with a great degree of certainty. Too much fun — too happy? Do those exist, and are they harmful**? (Ok, you’ll need to excuse the somewhat recent example of when laughing too hard at a comic strip sent me into a fit of coughing and choking, and exhausted me for the night . . . though one could argue the laughter healed more than it hurt. Survival makes it fine — this goes for many risks I’ve taken … which I’ve started a post about, and want to flesh out before sharing… — it even goes for the risks everyone takes, all the time.)

I don’t have what I want up here yet, before associating things with Neurofibromatosis type 2 and brain tumors and spinal tumors and blind eyes and deaf ears and inhabiting all sorts of physical and mental states . . . and what this unbelievably complex and simple life is. And though there are parallels to be drawn with ‘life with NF2,’ at base, it’s still life, and that’s all there is for everyone/anyone.

Of course, we can’t always get/give what we want, but sometimes we get/give what we need.

So I’m going with that flow.

I can organize little pieces of my life, achieve balance in various ways, in various parts . . . and even feel all sorts of things, all over the place . . . different levels and scales, tune in Tokyo . . .

That’s pretty much what everyone does, isn’t it?

Sometimes I’m just in cryptic writing moods. (Don’t worry–these pass and I do get back to whimsy, and eventually even more serious topics. It seems there’s always that initial dispelling of stereotypes . . . and things go from there. Letting things be, as they are, rather than how we expect them to be. Where do we go from here.)

I’ve gone around in full circles a few times. It’s alright because it’s always a bit different, even with some recurring themes. Right now, I’m allowing the things that wish to be pulled into relief, to do so. If I repeat myself, you’re free to find it humorous. There’s a lot of repetition in life. I find a lot of novelty in the most routine aspects of everyday life. Not always, but many times–on most days. It’s got a lot of physiological bases, but at least we can still count on gravity–for better or worse.

So this commences my formal sharing of perspectives. It is by no means authoritative in any sense other than that a good deal of it is experience-derived. And it’s always subject to change — just like yellow lights. Liminal. Subliminal. Tastes a bit like chicken***, probably. Washed down with a pina colada, or a beer, depending on one’s mood and tolerance.

* Red light/green light and players stopping all movement or being sent back to the starting line; we later altered the game to one of the advancers having to keep themselves from laughing… and the IT person inducing fits of laughter to send the others back to start. Kids are so inventive!

** Of course, the answer depends on how these are defined and valued, and whether multiple frames are used for reference.

*** It doesn’t have to be chicken to taste like chicken. Or to at least say that it tastes like chicken.

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