To recount a tale, construct a skyscraper, to live; not just survive.
Is this what we mean when we say “we’re alive”?
Is the world just an imperceptible speck in our mind’s eye?
We say we’re being mindful, yet the mind isn’t explicitly defined.
The mind is apparent in virtually every subject, both arts and sciences, yet rarely is it examined deliberately; perhaps because the mind’s triumphs are incomprehensible. Unquantifiable, at the least, and hence, not so easily described.
Everything you are and everything you’ve done is held within your skull.
Perhaps the resemblance to “skill” isn’t such a coincidence.
Or maybe that’s just my mind creating something out of nothing…
Your mind is a living encyclopedia – one well worth reading.
It’s an orchestra of marvel; nature’s RIAA Diamond certified record.
A sculpture, crafted by the holiest of gods, the most precise of engineers, and one truly eloquent polyglot.
The mind is the initiator of war and the advocate of peace.
It’s the affection we encircle our children in as if they were the prey of a rattlesnake…
It’s the valley of despair.
The propulsion of creation. Our river running home.
This is the realization that all dogs have Stockholm Syndrome; thirsting for their captors’ loveless affection.
And why you may find beauty in any one thing, yet it may not mean a thing to you.
The mind is a praiseworthy contraption Rube Goldberg never could have conceived.
It’s your prayers, your nightmares, and all those gleaming smiles in between.
It knows the precise moment for pacifism and the ideal place for confrontation.
Only in one’s mind, our long time and well adored friend, Escapism dwells; a contortionist, she appears in many forms.
The mind is deceiving simplicity; the home not beneath a roof.
Where to love here means to evolve here.
This is where you bat like a pee wee until you’re playing in the big leagues.
Where sheep still greet you happily in your slumber after you haven’t counted them in months.
And how you scuba dive in remorse over your willingness to barter for “slightly used” prostitutes.
Your mind is as ridiculous as a Type-2 diabetic at a sorghum festival, or a coke fiend not believing he’s addicted because he eats powdered donuts to explain the white on his mustache.
It’s why some say, “Where there’s a will, there’s a way”.
And why I believe that where there are won’ts, there’s plenty detours…
Or another human to give you a push.
A mind separates the ballers from the benchwarmers.
It enables our calloused hands to bleed silent sorrow, and allows us to be about something, yet not be entirely made out of it.
It’s your mind that prompts you to walk with your hands in your pockets when you’re uncomfortable, but instructs you to take your shoes off when you aren’t.
And how you’re able to let the river run without removing any logs.
Or why you’ll find yourself feeling abandoned more than you’d ever like to agree on.
It’s why we wander the streets aimlessly, wishing to be heard or seen by someone other than whom we acquaint ourselves.
And why we ourselves never lend a heeding ear.
Your mind is the designer of the idea that when we’re together, we’re similar.
And the very reason why the Tower of Babel isn’t an easy climb.
It happily encompasses everything humanly possible.
And because of it, this is how we do things.