At this certain moment as I click my keyboard, I don't necessarily want to create a scene for any readers with my words.
As I click my keyboard in this certain moment, it matters not to me if a reader can see between my letters and my spaces; it matters not to me if a reader can see within the meanings of these words.
If I am to write, if I am to express, it is not for the reader.
It is for my soul.
As long as my soul can embrace the meanings and spaces within and between these letters and words, as long as my soul can see any scenes that come to life within my scribblings...that is what matters.
Is that selfish? Some may think so...and that is okay.
But as I nurture my soul, as my sister nurtures her soul, as my brother nurtures his soul; we each in that process nurture one another.That is what matters.
The soul is infinitely intimate.
Some would say, "No. The soul is finite. Once you expel your final breath of life in this earthly body, your soul ceases to exist."
Yet, our cells are encoded with ancient wisdom from our ancestors who long ago expelled their final earth breath. We are rarely consciously aware of this wisdom.
Our cells are tiny universes with their own sophisticated language.
Our cells are constantly learning and adapting.
Our cells within our bodies are growing and dying all the time.
I don't think I believe in eternal life.
Yet I hope that there is Something More, whatever Something More means.
I hope there is a day when all shall be naked and known, a time when merciful justice is allotted, even a time when all that has ever gone awry in history is somehow reconciled. Something More.
Until that time, my cells and my soul will be shared with other soul-cell beings as we exchange a smile or a tear or a touch or a space.
Two beings share and then we move and share again...and again...and again...and again.
An infinite number of agains.