Between Publishing and Websites
Wherein I see a lot of talk about playing host...
Between Publishing and Websites
It's thirty past dawn, and Stillness is now a calm start fulfilling its purpose of your feeling centered. It's ninety minutes later, and focused Work dives into five 100-word thoughts on co-building houseless neighbors websites. This repeats, and Lunch is now a nourishing pause of mindful eating recharging toward an energized afternoon.
Fit that paragraph on a sticky note. Take a picture of that and set it as your background, then stick it anywhere the sun shines. Your attention is the sun/god of that trusted sticky.
Links find me. Wild volunteers reach out to me. Trauma-informed, I know what hellscape is mine, enough to invite that and block this. My filter imperfect, a body always in tune with conversation in reach.
To move that conversation closer to wellbeing, I might recognize in any moment is what I, this moment, deserve. Most words between this gesture my person and you the world are just that - on one meandering path that divide evenly the sphere of becoming between me and you or other, and: within reach, or not.
Let you be someone serving host to your words. Your words live in a box under your desk, or in a storage unit you and your neighbors rent out. It's love. The words reach me. You dream about the space your words live. You serve your word. Purposeful totality.
Let me be marginalized - chronically unhoused. You could pull out your change. Hand it to me. My paypal is @fnbpdxserving . You don't invite to take me to the library, build a website. Sit on that. Say their names - name your value, name your agency, name your temporal direction this moment. Too hard and you're too comfortable. So start:
Give now value's name. Make it a phrase, make it vivid. Can't? Bots can. Are bots more human than you'll ever be? Name your value Stillness. Phrase it whatever let's your mind settle. You've named a chunk of your time. An abstract ninety minute pocket of time is now purpose-filled.
Give now agency's name. We are ratting capital order out of this prisoner's dilemma. The driver: is it a tool, a habit? You are obligated to hell, so break "you" down. You are a timer this moment. I set you. What do I set you to? Asking for a friend. Close this tab when your done with it. I've turned "time exists" into "someone is doing something with it." Be the time being you wish
Give now direction's name. Where am I going with this? I'm the next ninety minutes in a verb. Name my result. I am cultivating calm. You feel centered. Are you calmer? A directional verb is a measure of resolve telling you how you're about to be, preventing me from taking control.
Should we have an accord, say so, take a deep breath, speak aloud "I will cultivate calm, advance my invite, and recharge at lunch," and place a plush or rock on your desk as the embodiment of this pact.
Stop saying I need a site and spot me.