Our senses translate signposts we meet on our way through life. It is essential to our being that these senses are left clear and fresh. This requires leaving ourselves open to any feeling, emotion, thought, idea or question that may come to us. Too often, they are obfuscated, as candle smoke would make a veneer over the colours of a painting in a chapel. Its affects are too slight to notice as they occur. Or maybe, we notice them too late to be able to change them, even if we should wish to.
The comforts of protected living, tempt us away from feelings that may seem like the discomforts of our climate. The feelings and emotions that feed our thoughts are ever present. For whatever reasons, we may grow to mistrust them and complicate them with a camouflage. This grows on perceptions we ignore or allow without challenge. And as that veneer grows thicker, so the comforts that helped make it, become a similar threat to others we hoped to avoid. With events, age and memory, imperceptibly, we layer filters on our senses. These offer interpretations we sometimes chose to ignore or create in a form that suits a purpose. We become needy of certainty and its measure. Yet, neither exists except as a notion within us. In time, they become a stubborn creation. We point towards the physical as though it is separate to the rest and then recall that dreams can be seen and heard.
These writings are a recognition. They are themselves. They are attempts to translate recognitions into a language that can be shared. How they come into being is as uncertain as their arrival and passing.