SOC Writing _ 10th December 2020  

My Lateralus

In the gone green gong – the light fades and the party starts. Joel in his presence with the weed – the party starts to this – we move out I don’t know how to an crawling mass of beautiful young people. She, is interested. I, am interested. I do not know how to move, how to hold, eyes – talk, touch – take hold of what I want; Lateralus. Only the music moves me. Fiercely it overcomes what school taught me – to be compliant – to stand up straight – to be a compliant student standing to attention. Military regime while my child mind wanders about snowflakes in the pool – fires and Indians sending smoke signals – I wonder about all this power – men and the jubilescent praise rising from the throng  - thong song – the hilarity of my life – the way I find silliness a salve – the stupidity of toilet humour and Homer Simpson – my salves – my salvation – hidden mostly because it is not always appropriate – that is true, sometimes, we must measure our freedom or it is not freedom, sometimes when we are arriving back to ourselves it is best to be alone – or on show? On show we are more naked than bare skin – more porous than we’d want to be – unsure about what can seep in as they watch – as the audience pries each and every step for juice – for my blood. Fuck them. They can take nothing – owed nothing – this is my space – my house – my ritual world - there is no pretending – just going about feeling into all the bits of me in this space – mother, father, sun, moon, planets rotate and my life generates – constellating from season to season – a fresh insight to what is unfolding and unravelling – fabric of time, space, time to say grace – remain grateful and keep your north star trimmed – like the wick – you want to burn bright – not snuff at the moment of greatest import – opportunity now to ease into what you are longing for – yes, EASE into what is, has been and will always; door open, fire by chair, waiting for you.