An idea is not a thing you have. It cannot be possessed like that, like an envelope or a letter. A risk is a thing you take, and a decision is a thing you make. Sometimes the invitation comes from another person or another animal, a bear or dog or ghost; sometimes it comes from oneself. It does not matter if an invitation comes from without or arises from within. Be still, yet ready to strike. Poised and taut. A snake has more than two hundred teeth, pointed backward to zip you up, to bite and hold you securely. Security is always a misapprehension. You can slip away; you can take a risk. Be decisive. Power ceases in the instant of repose, and the inside of you never stops, your heart circling your blood around and around right now, two thousand gallons in your lifetime. Wind blows in and out of you, across the deserts and mountains. It slams doors in the middle of the night, wakes you with a start.
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"Security is misapprehension." And risk makes me apprehensive. This enclosure just opens my mind delightfully.
Anne Oneill | August 2014 | 1500 SW 11th Avenue, Portland