Good morning it’s 5 a.m. and my life is chaos again!
Chaos is the meaning of life, my daughter says. She is nine. Number of the hermit, number of wisdom.
Chaos is something all children know deep from the heart. It’s the thing, they welcome, because we all force them to live in a world of squares.
How to live in a square, when you are a circle!
So welcome chaos, if you want to be a child. A child? I am an aging child. Like in this song by Joni Mitchell.
When you are an aging child, you are waiting for the chaos to lay down and make a bridge for walking over to the other side (what ever that may be!).
When you are an aging child, you are waiting for the hot, dazzeling light to dim down and make it all calm, round edges, soft atmosphere.
All should fall into pieces. All should fall into pisces. The other side of virgo. The virgin light in the morning.
It’s 5 a.m and my life is chaos again.
Chaos is the meaning
my daughter says
as she learns how to survive being a circle in a world of squares.
From some distant planet she waves to me
out of time and space
with nine years of compact wisdom
the huge Pandora box to pop up and spread
what grown-ups fear:
there are no soft edges in life
and no smooth corners to catch your breath
on with the dance
the limbo of making your way through.