Infinite possibilities…

You might say that it began as a child, was ingrained in me, the first lust I knew. Did it come from a previous life, the first hint of who I was/am, without even the knowledge of this?

I thought it was because I simply liked to create; to create new spaces – or perhaps it was the only way I knew how to reach for the unknown, escape from the everyday school & back, “How was your day, Casey?” …”fine.”  The same thing ingrained into me, day after day…

but in my room I began to find magick. A posted sign on the door “This Is A Place Of Solitude” ripped down by the parents within hours, but the message remained…

I would re-arrange my room every month if not more. It began early, before I was even strong enough to slide the weight of the dresser along the thin carpet. Creating something that was not known, creating something new, feeling the delight when I woke and wasn’t certain where I was… erasing the boundaries, the prison of the commonplace and familiar, feeling a strange sense of happiness when I stubbed my toe on something that wasn’t there before, or going in a completely different direction on the way to my bathroom in the darkness of night. Small, silly joys…

In order to live a full life the boundaries of what we think we know must be erased. As soon as you enclose an experience with the words “I know” something wonderful looses its magick. You can see the same thing – a tree, a building, a person every day and find something new each time. If you look close enough at any object, the  boundaries begin to fade and it is new again, alive.

I don’t want to believe that there is anything truly known – but still, there is a paradox. Things become too familiar perhaps, and that leaves the true unknown out there to bring the shine back into the eyes. That awakens the magick that might have been forgotten…

It’s as simple as opening my door in a different place every few days, stepping outside of my home, and lettting the unknown wash over me again, realizing that this is a life of infinite possibilities, and each one is answered with a resounding yes.

Now it’s time to sleep – but are  the dreams I will have only called dreams because of the boundaries that we deem as reality?

There are many worlds out there, we only call this one “real” because it is confined bu the boundaries that we have been conditioned to impose on it – because it is familiar, because we don’t know better, or are afraid – but without us deciding what our reality is, what would it be? What could we be?

Infinite Possibilities…

Is what we imagine to be reality truly real?


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