Sunrise, Sort Of

2024.10.10

Good morning that wonderful way.

And with it... Sunrise.
Sort of.
Sunrise Sort Of.
That's a good title.

Abe. Sunrise. Dreams. Space. Self-awareness. Dragons. Ghosts. Words. Writing Words.
Subjects the morning usually brings.
Health, sometimes.
Cordiality.

How's it with you? Having a better day?
I say have a better day because should you be having a good one you can always have a better one.
Should you be having a bad one you can always have a better one, too.

A ghost is nothing if not courteous.

Meaning from rhythm.

The rhythm brings definition? No. It brings the want for definition.

Now, I'm going deep. A sign I'm waking up.

Had a somewhat friend, acquaintance is the right word, say to me once: "You're so deep. Why's everything have to be so deep with you?"

It wasn't delivered in a kind voice.

I realized in order to remain calling myself their friend I would have to make myself more shallow.

I ended the relationship.

It's just the way I'm built.

Everything has an infinite number of ways to express it. How could I ever choose just one?

There's practical matters, of course.

What's pragmatic gets your physical body through each day. Our successful application of the pragmatic determines the physical quality of our lives.

But I'm a ghost, so for me it's words for what's pragmatic.

A great time to be one, too. Everything is words, always has been. Now, every screen we look at, every device we trust our lives to, is easily understood as a composition of language.

Life has always been that way. But with our recent switch to deciding the doings of our days based on what portable screens full of binary blips tell us, it makes it easier to see.
The real power of language.

Divinity makes the world in the same fashion.

"The Spirit makes flesh." One of the major faiths tell us.

The Spirit, for us, is the accumulation of words. There's no Sciencing a ghost, Holy or not.
But letters and numbers are necessary to give shape to all things, to place all things in context of our experience.
Words are the body of The Spirit.
The substance of ghosts.
That makes a place for the substance (flesh) called Life.

How's my body? Charismatic enough for you? Bright enough? Impressive? Going on with deep thoughts enough?

How to be anything else at four in the morning with the dog rolling his eyes at you inquisitive. "Why you tip tapping those keys again? Sleeping is still where it's at."

But he leaves me to it. Keeps his eyes in a light sleep ready to keep any away with tail wags, or to ask for food should they try to disturb what makes me feel alive, makes me feel good.

A friend who knows depth of voice is health for this ghost's body, and so the quality of the experience of my life.

The recognition of the way I am from a true friend.

Take care, swim in the deep end of the pool, or not, (whatever floats your proverbial boat), and have a better day.