Membrane

 Once you recognize that you are indeed a membrane to the cosmos, things change.

You realize that you are not a solid entity shielded by skin and muscle. You are not the brain that provides you with your reality, fixed and reliable.

You are penetrable, breathing air and molecules and subatomic particles. Your immune system awaits the invaders from skin and mouth and nose. Your gut is inhabited by critters you will never know or see. The cells of self die, and new cells of you are born. You fall apart and rebuild and still maintain.

Ideas are like that too. They come as words and images, messages and poetry. They enter you, some to die, some to live, some to test the mind’s immune system. They poke at reality, open holes for the world to enter.

And love, with the transforming action of all its touches, hugs and kisses and coitus. And the planting of seed by which life grows inside life.

So there it is. A membrane to the cosmos. A message that you are not in the world. You are the world.