The Humor in it

Sometimes I like to watch the creatures of the world in the morning. So busy at work, spinning webs, collecting sand, sparring over the last few seeds in the feeders. A universe full of tiny worlds inside of bigger worlds.

The tiny worlds mimic the human world, with their hierarchy, status in the food chain and again, that general busyness. It's in these moments where unity is so present in my mind, I cannot fathom the want for ill manners and disregard for all that lives...

There is so much vulnerability in simply being and still that same vulnerability appears to be somehow lesser to the drama of humor and story telling. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a jolly good time as much as the next person, but to me there is this discrepancy in value. In order to be considered interesting or well-liked, one needs to possess this rambunctious quality of entertainment, where the more introspective persona is 'too serious' or 'boring.'

I tend to disagree. I find tender people, who put their hearts on the line really refreshing. To me, they are raw and real.

As that introspective vulnerable individual, it's easy to get lost in the sea of laughing drunken faces. Faces that on occasion become almost demonic in their lack of integral quality. Not all the time, but at times, I prefer the busy spider. He/She has a purpose in each action and literally lives inside a state of susceptibility. There's no covering, no mask, just acting out the mission it serves inside the giant world. Is that mirror there for a reason? Is it our function to simply be mused and amusing? I tend to think not, but who am I to say.

Maybe there's a balance to all of it, for there is an underlying truth in every joke, as much as there is a lonely sadness beneath the one telling countless egotistical tales from the past to any open (or closed for that matter) ear. And so the cycle competes itself, no not completes, that was intentional. One side covers for the other, while the other uncovers.

And that's all I have to say right now.