Duplicity

I collect pretty boxes: Beautiful, brilliant, charming, generous, noble boxes that nurture my spirit and validate the essence of my soul. A kaleidoscope of colors and shapes in various depths and personalities filled with magical substances designed to reflect the mercurial nature of my personal evolution. The boxes are all the same. Masterfully crafted from rare and preciouse minerals like: carbon, air, and sodium; each intricately unique, meticulously made, and priceless in the construction of their structure. I want to find them all. To meet as many versions of myself as my mind could hope to endure, before it collapses upon itself, and no longer recognizes itself as itself. Because by each I am profoundly changed; and daily made anew. The content of each container keeps me curious to find the next. . . But there is only one box: one source of satisfaction and insight; one fraction of the whole; one love; one collector searching for one object to collect. It’s the illusion of multiplicity that keeps us lost in the confusion of insecurity; Screaming: nothing is ever enough, no one is ever the one, we are not like them, and I just don’t feel connected. We are trapped. Confined. Constricted by our limited sense perceptions into thinking that: “I am alone, and I need another pretty box.” But the truth is that there is only one box. There is only one thing. There is only one consciousness. Everything is the same. He and she and her and him, are all you and I. So the love is never lost. It is always there. It has always been there, and it will always be. Just close your eyes and breathe. . .