April 05-B, 2023

There is the plot,
and the script,
and the narrative,
and the context
which we are continually trying
to impose our plot,
script 
and narrative upon,
thinking we are the director
when we are only the actor
in a plot without a writer,
unfolding, ourselves,
along with it 
as the circumstances keep evolving
according to their own good pleasure,
transforming the contexts of each day
and carrying us along with it
into new scenes
and different characters
while we remain stuck
with trying to force our idea
for the situation
onto each situation as it arises
when the impromptu,
extemporaneous,
spontaneous,
unrehearsed,
immprovisionational
nature of our life
keeps us spinning around,
crashing into the set
and the props
and the other players
because we refuse to comprehend
the nature of life
and cooperate with it
by becoming one with the 
Epiphany of the moment,
reading what is happening,
knowing (Somehow. How can we possibly know?)
what is fitting and what is not,
and doing,
quite out of nowhere,
what is needed in each moment
of each situation of each day
as it opens before us,
scene by scene,
becoming all it is capable of being
in a dance beyond belief,
waiting,
as it is,
for us to give ourselves to it,
listening for the music no one can hear
until they begin to dance
with whatever is before them 
in the moment that is at hand,
right here,
right now.

See?

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