They say all information in the universe is conserved

P,
Replace the word “gift” with “thing” or “occurrence” or else “huh?” & does it better settle in you my more central thought–that to be taken from implies right or ownership or at least possession. Not certain my opinions are writ anywhere per se, I simply foist them about, to whatever end.
Life takes. Very well. If the function of life is to take, perhaps I shall make a gift of what I possess, and life and I may not come to blows over it (life also wins anyway). Is this resignation or recognition?
Also, I don’t do this most often. Most often I cling to my things (whatever I value) are they removed any less efficiently for my clinging, or does it mainly increase my fear? I’ve been reading St Teresa of Avila; perhaps this accounts for my religious tone-gift. A thing that is that need not have been? A thing that will not be that shall not be remembered much long in the appreciated ways…
They say all information in the universe is conserved… So… God remembers I suppose, but who cares what God remembers? She speaks in x-Rays. Listens in singularity. Embraces in decimation. Teaches with pain. What God remembers. Still, I should hope the ride be worth it now.
What do I care of was? As though I can come to the end, meet that end, and somehow then reflect upon it. Again, maybe God will evaluate, but God’s evaluations pay me nothing. It is worth now. Yes. Now in abundance. Worth it much. Though drastic and confusing, it has not been dull. & “not dull” requires attention. Dull is where I go when inattentive.
The dense of it (con?): I like the way you play. Do you not play? Well I like the way I play with how you aren’t playing. This amuses? Does not amuse? Ah well, whichever, I love you in whichever case for all of it.
I like your settle. Yes, I threw a very fine word carelessly. I have been writing “unsettled” quite a bit, & it’s an odd comfort, as though I am just this far from rest. I am not distressed or afraid or lost, but merely the minor addition of “not” to my settled self. Nothing more to be but not that. It is so close.
Dog is a good example: the way I have seen one try and find its sitting spot, a curling step, a lowering to, no, not quite right, circle again, lower, hmm not just quite yet, another little circle maybe, what about now? This seems good. Yes. I feel so often like this. Not off somewhere chasing tires, though a fine thing, but finding a settle. One can make many little circles and just never quite, which is also a fine thing.
Clocks also stop, keep poor time, relate to little I value. Clocks also make so many lovely circles, so like the sun the year the moon and so on, clocks describe the center. A clock may be incredibly unpleasant, loud, aggressive… These are clocks designed for the aggressive and unpleasant… A clock may take great care to make, be a joy to hear, long golden chains, cats tails, rhythmic like a pulse. Clocks are also very fine things. I worry over those (myself) who name their clocks after their suffering and proceed to worship.
I hope you’ve eaten well as well. Can there be much greater hope than this? Well, even if there may, I don’t think I’ve felt quite so uplifted in someone’s good wishes as just a moment ago when I saw you asking after my nourishment.
In whatever sort of nourishment on which you are sparse of late (even should you feel as I do over my beans & bread, that you can do-without better than you knew) I hope for you a feast of it, whatever it may be!
Yours in Crackers,
P
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