What is going on in my head? Last night I felt that familiar feeling again, the loneliness threatening to take over, the nowhere to turn. I have characterized it as the sprite who lives in the cenote, who comes up for air in pursuit of a butterfly and is spit out in different place than they should be, confused. the sprites emit from kitchen faucets to observe and scavenge bits of life material to bring back to the water, a directionless flow, which is how it maintains stillness. Why follow the butterfly who mimics the water? it takes life and purifies it, there deep in the turquoise clean. the sprites do this as a service and mode of being, for they like life but from a fair distance, being sensitive and pink.

I'm at the edge of a precipice. I'm neurotic about that tooth.

The candle is running out, I need to go to the post office. Expand the view and more items pile up.

But my room is nice and in focus. Everywhere my eyes land I register comfort, a reflection of my insides. I believe this is a good sign.

to share heartspeak

who is the internal beast up to show?

I don't remember.

had a long year

It would be simple enough, if only simplicity were not the most difficult of all things. To begin with, the task consists solely in objectively observing a fragment of a fantasy in its development. Nothing could be simpler, and yet right here the difficulties begin. No fantasy-fragment seems to appear - or yes, one does - but it is too stupid - hundreds of good reasons inhibit it. One cannot concentrate on it - it is too boring - what would it amount to - it is 'nothing but', et cetera. The conscious mind raises prolific objections, in fact it often seems bent upon blotting out the spontaneous fantasy-activity in spite of real insight, even of firm determination on the part of the individual to allow the psychic processes to go forward without interference. Often a veritable cramp of consciousness exists.

The Secret of the Golden Flower: A Chinese Book of Life, translated by Richard Wilhelm