This morning I sit in the corner of the couch, my legs in a vee, my computer on a lapdesk reaching from knee to knee. I see a flutter on the white front door (open at an angle to me) & glance up to identify a bird winging by. It comes to me that I often use reflective surfaces, facing life indirectly. But this is done automatically now. I think by everyone. as we face our dramas & get reflections back in media.

The point is to ask how much of our reality is reflection? It sure seems real at this level. Yet the poems, the learnings, the subjects of deep and intensive studies urge our return to a reality we are firmly convinced we occupy. There is always a deeper level when we look more closely, though. Most of the time it’s a little farther out from where we & often a bit higher up. Of course, it’s always a Decision. It always requires more work on our part to get there.

But we’re very busy in the Reflection.

While busy causes echo ~ (another reflection.)

The self-help & the selfies reassure us of our presence in a rendition format only. Since they are never pictorials of our true self, of our true self-perfection, they become a log of this reality’s unfoldment for us. If the outside is a reflection of the inside, how do I mete change out to myself?

Later these pics will be looked upon like old Polaroids sepia now with age – with half a memory for when these were the latest tech of all.

We will say, “Look, here’s where I decided I needed to make a change & here’s where I really got to make one.”

Most of our soul hidden by some cloaking device.