Primal Silence

In every splinter of silence the brazen chords of creation are blaring. It is given to the sentient to hear or ignore.

Singin, playin’ a sax, painting, dancing, fighting, learning, helping, growing strong, screaming, defying…..or just existing? What

kind of day is it? What kind of life, what kind of person? The mildew on my shower curtain is alive. It’s fulfilling what it’s meant to

do. It doesn’t get to define it’s limits. Those dials are set. The conscious, self aware, sentient life form has the prerogative of setting

dials to it’s liking. Even if it’s been told not to or been told that effort is useless and futile. For us, existing has countless possibilities,

and in every day countless memories, experiences, reflections. The fact of our existance should be a source of self generating, wild

excitement. Actual reality waits for the brave and the driven and leaves the safe and comfortable person to run down, heave

beneath their own weight and eventually stop moving. What fun is that?! That’s horseshit. On the other side of ‘this’  lies ‘that’

. Seeing through ‘this’ to experience and operate in ‘that’ has been the goal of every religion, meditation technique and oneirogenic

substance ingestion EVer. We are favorably met in the information age. We can benefit from the successes and failures of millennia

stretching back into the dimly appreciated sunrises of our protohuman stone throwing brethren. Our generations have this new



~ by edmundsax67 on May 6, 2011.

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