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get going: part two

The color spectrum infiltrates my wardrobe. Always, I avoid black. I've no desire to appear like a well-dressed mourner; though I do qualify. My brother dies in 1989. Three decades later, I’m in red, orange, yellow and burgundy. On my feet, pink, green and brown flowered boots. I'm watching "Eating Animals," a 94-minute documentary about pigs, poultry and cattle and how they are treated. Leaving me to consider consuming more plant based food.

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Get Going

Everything that happens to me, I interpret as a learning lesson. To get me going. And when a stye appears on the lower lid of my right eye, I begin pondering about my vision. How do I see myself in the year 2019? I come up with this. I’m wanting my decision-making to be dependent less on intellect and more on intuition. To feel what it means to live in the center of my being. Stop this tip-toeing around. Use Mozart as my muse. When he composes his symphonies. Be able to suspend time, space , place even hunger. This is what I want.

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while you aspire

Slow down. Pause. Breathe. That's my elixir to combat the feeling “Life's passed me by. It's too late to fulfill my destiny. Blues." Because I am my own enemy, I had to be taught how to save my own life. Now I practice filling my belly up with breath, have it expand, then flatten, every day. Calling this process "connective breathing,” since it brings me inside of myself. Resulting in an increase in joy, clarity of thought and intention. If hope's the accurate barometer. I seem to be floating on air; all due to my breath.

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Breath: The Only Requirement

I wake up pondering. Doing it for months. Reminding myself I'm going to die. It's positively unrelenting. Starting right after a young man on the subway calls me elderly, while chastising everyone else in the car for not offering me their seat. When I’m of the mind, I’m doing fine. Getting out of bed on my own. Working around being trapped inside my birth-date. Of which there’s no getting out. That makes me mad. I'm still breathing. And since breath means life;count me in.

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Your Future's Truth

It’s amazing. Once you understand yourself. You revel in the fact you are you. Stepping out like a new born from inside your head. Free at last to join the human race. You pay your forty dollars and go right ahead and apply to the New York International Fringe Festival. Sending them your sixty-minute solo show script, “A Coffin Turning Clockwise: A Comedy in Real Time.” Where you mine your eccentricities and have performed it twice. Without dropping dead. Proof; you're your future's truth.

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