I like to cluster my days by tasks and avoid the essence of time. Most days we can’t defeat time. You know the anxiety it can cause after being behind for several reasons. Resistance. Anxiety is a form of resistance and very few people manage it to their advantage. I plan my days by the reality of time it will take each task to complete. First, I list the tasks, then prioritize. In that way if I foresee something not getting done that day, I don’t add the stress of trying to complete it. Because time has a mind of its own. And I was always told to mind my own. Otherwise time, would be controlling my own. Here’s a short story I wrote at 3am the other night. Good Morning world.
December 8, 2018

Where Time Ought To Be

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

We intelligently responded by conveying what most people understand as history. We said, “we’ve been here for 10s of thousands of years, we all live on parts of this place.”

Referring to Earth, but they were confused.

Our intelligence could only understand two meaningful, fundamental, and valuable words from their response out of confusion, so we assumed.

“Prove it”.

Again, a time of confusion and lost thought. Fortunately, however, it was a humbling time for the people’s curiosity.

The people could not convey modern technology to what had come into the Earth’s noosphere, or best described as another dimension coming into contact with our intelligence. This is how the people understood the entity in which we were dealing with.

In other words, people didn’t know what the fuck we were dealing with.

The individuals who create, establish, maintain, and value intelligence on earth had to prove something that proves itself daily within. The people had tools, technology and the infrastructure to outlast past civilizations. But could not prove it?

So, intelligence thought.

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 to confusion.

Our words to them meant nothing. They saw the city lights and dark canvasing sky’s as eerie to touch. Like it might be poison to them. Maybe they’ve seen it before?

Modern pretentious aliens as we could best coin it. They’re simple, however, complex in understanding.

Nothing like anyone has ever seen, but it felt as if the feeling was a past infinite scene in our memory. Intelligence was muddled. We asked ourselves, “have they been here before?”

They must sit out there, far out somewhere in the atmosphere on their stable floating rock. Some of them like us sit up top a Mt Zion and laugh at time. Because they knew even before the 12 moons that time would be our hand in the dark one day.

Thinking we saw it.

It was history, the essence of time, or this linear measurement of space as we understood they see it. Time was the critical thing that would get us stuck on another thing quite unnecessarily. Like trying to prove something.

Prove what?

The people understood it, as they expressed to us, that they wanted proof of our existence on Earth. Or what we responded with.

So, we asked ourselves, what is ‘it’ we needed to prove to them? Is it our technology, values, and I guess existence here on earth for the past 10s of thousands of years as our highly intellectual scientist claim?

As we were lost in thoughts, they were lost in translation. Their top men went back to where they reside. A place in space our intelligence cannot comprehend.

Both energies now apart, and nothing gained.

For them, confused because they got what they expected. Another disarrayed entity.

For us, confused because we couldn’t figure out how to properly work together and prove we’ve been here for 10s of thousands of years. All they saw was a rock with things that can respond on it. Eerier to the touch. Looking like rocks don’t grow that stuff…

They knew we were intelligent, but now to a certain degree.

Much less than the others seen lightyears away, muddled but free.


Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, Budd writes to encourage readers to explore the depths of their inner ocean, an unexplored self, because it's fun once you get through the emotional part... “The world around us is our vehicle, what you'll read is how I digest it.” -Budd

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