I said, "Can't you see that it doesn't matter to me if you run your sword through my soul?" She asked, "Are you so certain in your monkish response that pain will no longer matter?" I answered, "Somewhere there is no concern between what is right and what is wrong." She said, "Those who believe so practice dancing on graves in the middle of the night." I apologized, "My sleep was full of dark dreams meant only for those who cherish pain." She said, "Try walking down avenues paved with stones of many colors each sharper than razor blades."
I said, "I realized this morning that my shadow of control feasts on Ought energy." She said, "That is the Way it ought to be." I said, "Even the most basic 'Be mindfuls' come from the place of Oughtness." She said, "We act surprised when we discover how closely Is and Ought dwell together." I asked, not expecting an answer, "Ought we not try to begin again so as to avoid the Imperative?" She answered, "Or perhaps we must ask the vegetables how we ought to grow."
I said, "Imagine removing fear from all decisions we decide today." She said, "You would burn your finger or walk straight into the nearest wall." I asked, "Would there be anything left holding me back from making the change that most needs to happen?" She answered, "There are poems that can be found in the movement of the leaves blown by the unseen wind." I said, "Any love can survive until one comes across an unexplained drawing in cryptoglyphic writing on the walls." She said, "We become the chosen language of the divine seeking to express itself."
I said, "I dreamed I was a bird eating a couple of seeds before flying off to a bird bath for a sip of water." She said, "Imagine how many persons sat inside their homes looking out windows upon your performance." I said, "I should have charged admission in exchange for the free food and drink." She said, "Watching in the here and now may make room for a note or two in our journal to be read in twenty years." I said, "I am fortunate to have many days to be joyfully remembered in the distant future." She said, "The ordinariness of today shapes the shape of the days bringing a close to the banquet of life."
I said, "I dreamed that I couldn't even communicate my own accountability blocks." She said, "So many intellectual and emotional framings sound trite in this day." I asked, "Was I blocked or simply not in the time and space to talk the necessary language?" She replied, "If you must lean, lean into those connections that don't yell and scream." I said, "There was a piece of gold in the dream. Someone whispered, Wait for the second moment." She smiled. "One really does not have to know. Feeling like there is something present might be enough."
I said, "I have decided to defend myself against the many charges of me being a pessimist." She asked, "And is that possible with reality the way it is; with the crushing expectations of life?" I replied, "Are you suggesting that labels, once applied, are unable to be removed?" She answered, "There are times when the overgrown bushes need to be pulled out." I said, "Perhaps in our drive to be inhuman we need to curb our natural impulses." She said, "Or raise the level of preaching filling the pews with unwanted desires to achieve ordinariness."
I said, "I had a dream that I was showing off the latest dance in the middle of a circle of family and friends." She asked, "Did you feel the watching-centeredness change from one dance to the next?" I said, "No. But the look of love from parents and grandparents remained between steps and turns." She said, "It is not possible for time to ever get tired of experiencing moments like these." I asked, tentatively, "Do you think that awe in the midst of the grand mystery will always remain with us?" She answered, "Remember what the prophet said, 'Multitudes, multitudes in the valley of decision!"
I said, "The last bite tasted the same as the first bite." She said, "Sometimes the call to be different from those around us remains hidden in folded spaces." I asked, "How, then, might loving our neighbor fit into knowing differentness?" She answered, "Shrines on the same side of the street often share peculiar and various words of comfort." I said, "I recognize where the need for performing in the eyes of my ancestors comes from." She said, "We place a baby in our aunt's arms and witness the generations coming to us."
I said, "I have a confession to make. I failed to do what Simon said." She said, "Perhaps it takes one act of disobedience before we can claim our inheritance." I asked, "What practicality does a belief have if it doesn't make a difference in our lives?" She answered, "Is it a belief or is it something that should be trashed?" I said, "I have yet to consult with the oracle of doom and gloom as to what if any action is needed." She said, "Leave prophecy for the pages of the books taken seriously by scholars."
I said, "I dreamed last night that the troublers of conscience came streaming out of the woodwork." She said, "Sometimes even the ravens demand attention while performing." I asked, "How does a voice make sound in the midst of people who are convinced that only they know the real ways?" She answered, "Silence is fertile ground for mutterings to emerge." I said, "In walking from place to place, so many feel mysteriously unconnected to anything that might be called human." She sighed, "The faithful remnant may come and go unexpectedly but they will be seen and heard."