It always is “situation normal–all f’d up”.  I mean that seriously.  We are continuously intercoursing with each other.  That’s just the nature of nature, really.  The blades of grass entwined within the soil.  The branches reaching and bending in the wind.  The bosses in the office talking with each other deciding how us core center group will relate to each other.  Directing the intercoursing.  Is that like a sex therapist?

In any case, we constantly intermix with each other.  When hands do this to a violin, it is called a symphony.  When we tap our feet on the floor, we’re ready to dance.  When someone pounds on a drum, now we’re rocking and rolling all night long.  But when people bump there is whining and crying and fussing and fighting and accusations and blame and shame.

We are powerless over these behavioral patterns, and when we are lucky enough to be aware of them, we find ourselves in a life that is completely unmanageable.  How can we manager our life when up all night arguing the same thing over and over?  What kind of life is it anyway when we feel that no matter how we move, we hurt someone?  Where do we find solace when we are told by those we love that we are unlovable?

I have come to believe that there is a higher plane of consideration, a focus above the tangled briars that gives me direction.  And there is that dear inner compass that keeps reflecting my heart off the moon and the stars in Her hair.