stream of consciousness
on words, trees, and boundaries.
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Thoughts that weave and ramble. Slowly and then all at once. Tumbling — but not falling. Flowing freely. Feeding one another.
Consciousness that feels like the sound of a babbling brook. Water making its way down the side of a mountain with no destination in mind.
Going at its own pace.
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Words.
What do they mean? Definitions never fully agreed upon. Interpretations posing as truth. Opinion perceived as fact.
A way to communicate. To understand. To share.
A way to restrict. To put things in boxes. To make sense of the world.
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I wonder how trees grow leaves.
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What are boundaries? Rules for myself, or rules for other people? Expectations and regulations and limitations. Knowing the difference.
Boundaries are a set of guidelines for how to play the game safely. Making sure that no one gets hurt.
Boundaries keep things organized, without keeping them in boxes. Like speaking without words. Writing without a pen. Cooking without a recipe.
Boundaries are fluid. Freedom to be flexible. Room to grow. Opportunity for improvisation. Expanding and contracting. Holding on tight and letting go.
Boundaries are meant to be tested. How else do we know that they work?
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Life as a commodity.
Items to be bought, sold, traded. Bodies and ideas turned into things. Prices on self worth. Dollars as a way to determine value.
But how do you measure the cost of existence?
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It seems like the trees grow buds that become flowers. They bloom in the morning and wilt overnight, turning into leaves eventually.
Going at their own pace.
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Finding a balance — it’s easier said than done.
Reciprocity. An even amount of giving and taking. Mutual respect. Equal admiration. Returning the favor.
No winner or loser, only participants. Teammates. Playing a game not to keep score, but to enjoy the company.
Respecting one another’s boundaries.
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A pollinator garden is designed to sustain itself.
What if we grew everything like this? Harvesting only what we need. Scattering seeds the same way that birds do. Growing gardens the way that trees grow leaves.
Going at our own pace.
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Writing and talking and listening — that’s what words are for. Boundaries of language. Rules and regulations. A way to play the game fairly.
I wonder if birds use words, too.