If I give up on a part of something, a part of God dies, a part of holiness of being.
If I am absorbed by something, I make it my total reality.
My total reality is a sum of compounded waves, but it is also a choice, how I am being in the current moment, and it can be a garbage bucket for all those compounded waves, for instance, what if I never saw Mom or Dad again, or if I just stopped calling my friends… my reality would become what my actions are, what my investments are. A soup of molecules, the humidity in the air, watching the cat on the floor, this will become my reality if I do not open the door and venture outside. The cat’s meow will become persistent and repeated and an echo and my mind an echo, and my relationships merely references to something that I may have had in the past, but now all I have are fading ideas, ideas that are grey compared to the technicolor of the real world, of an open door, of a head out the window watching the trees. All of outside will become grey if it is not watched. The only thing that will retain color is the little spot of floor by the cat, perhaps the sofa, or maybe the sofa will turn grey because of the mere extent of familiarity, and I will rust in this spot, I will turn grey, I will decay. No one will remember my name.
Lady