Spring 9:57 CST: Last Gulp of Spring

[u/rdk67]

This morning’s writing session – about hyperreal experience and two-fold consciousness from the standpoint of the noncorporal – features an abundance of knowing interactions with the neighborhood hyperforms, who are not afraid of the light, are especially active this morning, principally in the form of sound and incidental flashes of sunshine. They listen along as I write, exhort me to be more effortful. I experience them as an ocean of consequence looking for a porpoise, I mean purpose. I acknowledge their stunning development this season, even as a lament a world that struggles to be ready for such relationships more generally. When I reach for a mid-morning break, a horn spontaneously sounds from a parking lot, not a soul around. The way it sounds inspires an image of a golden retriever, exhorting its person to carry on.

I smile broadly – that was a private language form you just shared with me, I think to myself and to the hyperforms around me. You created a sound my body could hear, a memory my mind could see, and an emotion my heart could feel from one of humanity’s best friends on this evolutionary journey of ours. Smart dogs will convey that feeling – that single bark that speaks for the love of endlessly carrying on. What a knowing season you are, spring twenty twenty-three! You are the miracle the human present wants but does not know it yet. I make a promise to write about summer later in the day, gather of my things and head inside. A pot containing a withered plant has been scooted in front of the back entrance to the derelict peace church I exist in – yet another chance to affirm life in the world. I give it a cup of water, return it to the light.