I like to cluster my days by tasks and avoid the essence of time. Most days we can’t defeat it. You know the anxiety it can cause after being behind schedule forever. And then there’s resistance. Anxiety is a form of resistance and few people manage it to their advantage. I plan my days by the reality of time it’ll take to complete each task. First, I list the tasks, then prioritize each. If I foresee something not getting done, I don’t add the stress of trying to complete it. Because time has a mind of its own, and I was taught to mind my own. Otherwise time would be controlling my flow. But here’s a short story I wrote with my watcher at 3AM the other night. Good Morning, world.

December 8, 2018

When they came here last, descending into our intelligence through an understanding of our own words and meaning from the beginnings of time, the first question we understood them asking us was, “why are you here?”

We intellectually responded by conveying what most of us knew as history, in saying, “we’ve been here for tens of thousands of years, we all live on different parts of this place.”

Referring to earth, but they couldn’t overstand.

Our intelligence comprehended two meaningful, fundamental, and valuable words from their response out of confusion. So we assumed.

“Prove it—”

In a time of disarray and lost thought, it was humbling for the people’s curiosity, who couldn’t convey modern technology to what had come into earth’s noosphere. Or, best described as another dimension coming into contact with our beings. This is how the people saw the entity in which they were dealing with.

In short, the people didn’t know what the fuck they didn’t know…

Individuals who create, establish, maintain, and value intelligence on earth had to prove something that proves itself daily. The people had tools, technology, and the infrastructure to outlast past civilizations, but couldn’t prove something.

Keep in mind, this is only what intelligence could comprehend.

But because the entity that came into contact with us wanted to ‘see’ the technology, history, and values we claimed to possess on this rock, it led them perplexed.

Our words meant nothing. Our city lights and dark canvasing sky’s flushed upon their aura. And their apprehensive gesture smacked it to be so.

Modern pretentious aliens as we best coined them, they seemed simple, however, complex in the information retained.

Nothing like anyone had seen, but it felt as if the connection was a past infinite scene of our memories. Intelligence was muddled. We asked ourselves, “have they actually been here before?”

They must sit far out somewhere in a galaxy on their stable floating rock. Some like us, sit atop a Mt. Zion and laugh at time, because they knew before our 13 moons that time would be our hand in the dark one day.

History—the essence of time, or this linear measurement of space as we view them seeing it, became the critical thing leading this rendezvous dumbfounded.

We’d ask ourselves again, “what is ‘it’ we needed to prove to them?”

Is it our technology, values, and creations here on earth that highly intellectual scientists claim to be tangible?

Lost in thought, the docking entities hover while we’re lost in translation.

Their top particles depart back to where they reside. To a place in space our intelligence can’t comprehend. With both energies apart, and nothing gained, they got what they expected.

For us, confused because we couldn’t figure out how to orderly express ourselves to prove we’ve been here for many many centuries. All they saw was a rock with wiggles responding out of it. Eerie to the touch, looking like rocks don’t grow that stuff…

They knew we were intelligence, arguably with cusps.

I too asked myself, “there’s no way we’d outlast past civilizations…”


Continued here…

Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, Budd writes because no one can 'read' him. And it's a great way to hide public thoughts...

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