Moving on

I love seeing tiny children standing on their front lawn at dusk. They're still in school uniforms that hang on their bodies, waiting to be grown into and they move. They move in a totally different way to adults.

They move their bodies and mouths and hands with a freedom that adults in their steel suits and shackled routines can't understand anymore. They waggle arms and extend legs, and shout to the skies. They use trees as fairy homes, and bikes as magical chariots and rocks as currency, mud as meals.

It makes me wish for those long summer afternoons when we'd swing so high, and watch the ball rip across the blue zone, and use a fish bowl as a crystal ball for a game of gypsies. Playing hide and seek under the cars, calling the cat the king of the colony, and escaping the prison by jumping through sprinklers. Bringing home damp pinafores, shoes, socks, laces and tissues to hand over to the laundry, waiting for tomorrow on the trampoline, the new moonscape.

Self and ego

The assumption is that we know self. We know ourselves. We know our selfishness. We know our selflessness.

The assumption is we are a whole self, a half self, an empty, flat self.

These assumptions fail self.

The self is undefined, unindentified, and always in flux.

The 'self' isn't the correct definition for the experiences we choose to use as the model of interactions with other selves.

The assumption is in the use of 'I' for 'self'.

It is just ego in motion.