Learning to Play

Miranda got up in the morning, fed the cats and ate a fresh peach, mindfully thanking the Universe for the sweetness and the texture of the fruit as well as the miracle that she had the resources to buy fresh peaches.

And then she went on Facebook.  Aaaaaaah, the images, the words, the addiction of the screen, glowing glowing. She didn’t even need to open the blinds, because she had the flicker of magic pixels, drawing her eyes to bounce along like a dribbling ball.  Oh, a sunset, a pouncing cat, a dog in a hat, a child in a detention center, scrolling, scrolling, click—no, wait, don’t click on that!  Too upsetting, too unreal, too time-consuming.  Is it time for lunch yet?

Will something rise up out of this virtual traffic to pull me back into the actual and the genuine? If this is the dream, who is the dreamer?  If this is reality, I want to change the channel.

Take me to the ocean. Lay me down in redwood needles. Teach me to play.

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