all the world’s a sage

I’ve been journeying to Wisconsin lately, I’m not entirely sure why, but it’s been nice.

The first time was a few weeks ago, I was flying through dimensions and found myself in cornfields and farms. I was back in WI, I wasn’t there for long, but it was nice, there was a deep sounding pleasure wrapped around my synapses, going for rides on the sparks.

Then the other night, my dreams took me there again. It was twilight, wisconsin dusk, a slice of sublime pie. I was with friends I’ve never had; we were playing kick the can. They were waiting for me, everyone was waiting for me, they were calling me to come back and join them, not impatiently or mean, just a gentle murmur, a hum, an undulating whisper…christa, christa.

I looked back, with my closed dreaming eyes. Then I looked forward, to the other side, where I also was, a different place, where people I DO know were also waiting for me, wondering where I was and what I was doing, asking me, more insistent, less waves, a sharper harder line.

I was a split screen, christa here and christa there—someplace solid and steadfast, someplace wavering, under water.

(it was a very strange, liquidy sensation, all over I was wet. The mysteries of time and space are heavy with moisture, did you know?)

So there I am, I could see myself, like I was the person on the TV screen looking and talking to the camera, and I was also at the same time the person on the watching end of the TV, looking at me on the TV screen as I talked right back to myself. The christa in the TV was meeting up with the christa watching the TV. I knew what was “real” and what was the dream. I knew my physical body lay there on planet earth, october, Massachusetts, with families and jobs and wrinkling skin.

But the other place, the Wisconsin of dusk turning into a dark milky starry night, that place was also real, just as real, because somewhere, in some universe, in some deep reach of the cosmos, there is a christa playing kick the can with friends. And we met up, briefly, that christa and this one, joining into a flickering kiss.

We merged, we blended, and then we parted ways, each of us going back to our realities.

Never though did I feel like I was two separate people, a certain christa here and another one there; I was always just me, living in different moments, different times, different spaces, seeing with eyes of many.

What lies beneath, I wonder. I hope it’s a journey I continue to take. I’m a bit wary, afraid of what I might find, what we might find; afraid of what can be lost, what surely will be lost. The world giveth and she taketh.

Yet, if we don’t go, the unknown will blanket us, leaving us with a cold, sorrowing comfort, weariness as our only sustenance. I can’t live that way. I won’t. So I will open myself up to these journeys, small and big, take them as I can, knowing there is always a balance, shadows because there is light, and welcome it all.

There is more than we see.

4 thoughts on “all the world’s a sage

  1. christa Post author

    pretty much yeah.

    and I gotta say, I’m fucking awesome. I kiss like nobody’s business.

  2. Jonathan

    Yeah, I’m a decent kisser, but when it comes to making out with myself, I usually just grab my junk & go at it. I mean, my hand & I are like, “why bother with the foreplay, we both know I’m going to put out.”

  3. christa

    you won’t even give yourself or your hand a tiny little kiss or a gentle caress to say “hey let’s do this thing”?

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