Saying goodbye

“We are like islands in the sea, separate on the surface but connected in the deep” ~ William James

Not the LinkedIn variety

What do:

My grandmother’s stories, 3am circling, downtown karaoke, stargazing, psychedelic trips, improv theatre, white boarding, books on grass under shade, and staying up until 6am, talking about everything and nothing, have in common?

These are the times when I have felt the most connected.

I am selfish; incredibly so.

I’ll be the first to admit that.

I crave connection the way junkies crave opiates, swooping in from who knows where, finding my prey, and poof, there I go again.

For all my aesthetic longings for ceremony, I leave without a whiff of the stuff.

It begins, the chairs are drawn, the table laden, the only missing ingredient? The host himself.

The charitable interpretation is that I hate saying goodbye.

Date

December 22, 2022

Up next

Two lives I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future

Previously

Found in my Apple Notes, 4AM I read in a most peculiar way. A book is not meant to be inhaled in one go. It’s not safe to do so; FDA approval still pending, is what my friend in