The poppy

Professor Snowball is the snowball tree in my backyard. He changes with the seasons, like we all do. In November he is a dying fire with his last red embers drifting down into dark days. In January he stands stark naked. In  spring he begins to bloom. By May he is covered with heavy snowballs which pull his branches down low. Then a brownish tint starts to gnaw at his glory like slush on the side of the road. This morning (like every morning) he is in full mutation. More brown than white. Soon he’ll be covered in luscious green leaves, then fiery red flakes, ending with his skinny stick branches covered in winter’s white frozen ash. I observe Professor Snowball as he evolves, dissolves and revives. He continually changes his outer cloak, but never what he is inside.

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The i of the storm

What is me? I take away my house, I’m still here. I remove my profession, I’m still here. I take away my diplomas, I’m still here. What is me? Teacher, mom, wife, daughter, tennis player, foreigner. What is me?! I remove my kids, I’m still here. I remove Jack, I’m still here. I remove this pen, I’m still here.

I remove it all, I’m still me. Everything that can be removed is not me. Everything I have and do can be removed. (My entire life can be removed.)

I am not my life?

What is left?

Me.

 

Know thyself

Know thyself is to know that you are two and you are one. You are separated and you are whole.

You are a divine creature walking around in a spacesuit. The divine part of you cannot function in the physical world of form. So when we come to this land of paper and plastic, of fire and flesh, of old and new, of beginnings and ends, we need a protective coating. I am a hue in a man on a mission to Mars.

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