Alternate modes, long lost mappings. At times the thought or the words to the thought are just the part passing through some other essence, being, feeling that’s much harder to pin down. How do we capture them, moonbeams in hand, transparent mists as they roll in behind our eyes?

I’m not entirely sure I understand meditation, though I can see a process forming at the end of the night, sitting still and letting my mind roam. It’s not about trying to empty the mind, but it is about reducing the friction with which they come and go.

Lately, the color is beyond words, something I cannot quite put to language because it’s about the connection between them, the worlds within my mind which intersect and create cross patterns of synaptic crossroads.

Perhaps meditation is more about unserializing the data which comes in consistent order from various branches. Is our tendency to attempt to make artificial connections where none exist? Perhaps our tools for joining these geometries are insufficient in certain social or lexical constructs, constrained by the wrong dimensions.

Worlds colliding picks at the rational mind, and that’s OK.  Forget the organization, swim in the soup sans the sense of drowning. After all, we’re eventually all living in the same giant tub.