It all begins in that moment in time when our internal monitor reads empty. Someone says something and we believe their observation of us. Without realizing it is only their observation of themselves being carried out on the operating table of our esteem. Easy to recognize now, not so easy to see over the span of a lifetime of disposable beliefs. What I take on is a symbolic limp of descriptions of denial. It is in ordinary situations we find ourselves. I tend to look deeper than the alluring glance. I gaze, stare and wane from the weary look. The irony of my mystique is nothing at all. I transcend transparency. My Saran wrap of facial expressions and feelings simply correspond with each other like identical twins. Now, let’s get to the hope of it all, it is simply an old idea being played out in the recesses of playgrounds past. Afterall, this really is where we pick up our old beliefs of ourselves, from our peers. although we often blame it on our parents. For me the remedy is simply looking within. Nothing out there is going to fix what is an inside procedure. As I attempt to glide through what I first visualize as a crowd of angry villagers waiting to place judgement over my meek mind, I become aware of what it truly is, the conception of my thoughts barreling me through the falls of  water ready to just wash me clean of another level of dis-ease. The truth of that is quite simple, my symptoms are just an examination of self. My identity is clear and the nature of my illness, is not an illness at all. It is an alignment of spirit, connecting with soul. The nature of which is quite apparent, don’t believe everything you hear. Because what I hear, is where I am at. Gratefully in this moment it is, Diagnostic Divinity. 


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