Truman

Things move. 
Sideways, in circles, in spirals.
There is constant motion--want it or not. 
Believe it or not. 

The planet is pumping. 
Like a heart.
Every beat produces a shift, produces a new variable of something.
The world is every cloud, every butterfly, every bee, a child that blinks, every creature that winks at the sun, every ocean.  

I think of the world, of the planet, and it somehow becomes abstract.  Too large. I know that as i sit and write this morning; as i hear my brother next door: he's reading, learning, thinking--clicking the tap on and off the highlighter-- 
As i can feel the heat of the day surround my body, or watch a mischievous bee wonder my balcony deciding whether to come in or not...
As i perceive this micro-world around me, happening, i know there are fellows shivering to the cold, or half way through their sleep or maybe just waking up, this same instant, to a whole different day.  I know that, it takes a bit of an effort to make a picture of it in my head, but i know it.  It's no new discovery. 

Yet, it seems too far, too large..not a part of.....me.  
You could well say it's happening in another planet, i don't know. 
Grasping the concept of the planet is challenging. Of our whole planet is too much.  (our being the key word here). 
It becomes abstract, it becomes a concept.  Something that gets easily tosses to the trash of our hard drive, or last on our list of concerns or existence. 
I find it quite dangerous. Yet it does not particularly strike me as odd that it's been dismissed, for that is what we do: dismiss awareness, dismiss warnings, dismiss danger. 
The great god Oblivion steps in, blinding us with ego, false needs and instant gratifications.  With comfort. 

It concerns me though. I'm the ferocious salmon that swims against the current, giving my life away to place those eggs in my natal river.  Wonderful life--that of the salmon.  Being born in the river, living it's life in the ocean gaining body mass, to then return to the exact same stream they were conceived.  Swimming their life away upstream, spawning their eggs for the next generation.  Creating a new life cycle. 
I swim upstream, hitting hard currents running in the opposite direction.  
I swim "awareness", the river runs "oblivion". 

Sometimes i feel like Truman, in The Truman Show. I've been thinking about that movie a lot lately. Not the best of movies ever to exist, yet respectable. Poor Truman blind to the manmade world he is living. Of false identities, false energy flow.  All created, all controlled, a manmade God--so far from spirituality, ritual and faith-- the enterprise called God, praising the dogma of ambition and power, to its bitch: Money. 
Poor Truman, shouting to live, yet confined to limits he does not understand. Poor Truman searching for himself, while he stands between phonies almost carrying name tags to assure others (and reassure themselves) who they are.  By the cars they drive, the people they talk to, the clothes they wear, the jobs they have, and worst: feelings they feel. 
Poor Truman not understanding a thing. 
This Truman has travelled through history: the cavemen of Plato's Dialogues, Segismundo from Lope de Vega's Life is a Dream, Shakespeare's Hamlet..to mention some. 

Yet it's become fiction.  A movie.  "Oh poor Truman" we say. 
And yourself?

Things are moving.  They are constantly moving. 
Change means cracking, opening, tearing, dissolving, but also opportunity, development, creation, new. 
"What do i do with all this?", i sometimes get overwhelmed. 
Keep swimming. Not swim for others.  Swim my river with all my might. Know, trust, there are others on my side.  There is more to come. 

The death of the salmon has important consequences. The impact they have on other life is greater than what they would have expected in relation to their biomass. It means significant nutrients in their carcasses, rich in nitrogen, sulfur, carbon and phosphorus; which are transported from the ocean to the terrestrial wildlife such as bears and woodlands adjacent to the rivers. The nutrients can also be washed downstream into estuaries where they accumulate and provide further support for estuarine breeding birds. - 
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salmon_run