Got 'em... maybe.

There is the glance across the room, the peripheral vision encounter, and then the quick turn away as soon as the windows to the soul line up. One more time. And it's now confirmed - the fish is on the hook. So this time you change it up. Look to the wall. Scan for the clock. Pretend to check the time. Swivel your head back around. Dramatically squint your eyes and gaze beyond the target while you stretch out your neck here and there as if you're looking over an invisible wall in search of an invisible person. And you keep at it...

... until one day you realize you're the fishy; you're playing the same game you thought you were never going to play. We all live in a yellow submarine after all. Though at the moment, I'm up and away for some fresh air and new perspective because in short, what I see is not what I get. What I see is not what it seems.

I'm noticing more each day that what I see is not matching up with what I know and the growing disconnect between knowing and doing. Everyone knows how to speak right. They know how to soothe the mind. But preacher, 'teach me how to live when the tongue is done.' What I want is the real deal, not a mere projection of what should be, could be real. Movement. I want someone to divide soul and spirit, joints and marrow. Oh wait, that sounds familiar, and yet so foreign.

When I don't move, they say go. When I move, they say stop. This is the definition of messin' with yo mind. I laid my heart out, put it on the table, and bled in front of them, and all I got was an analysis of the state of my mind - a thousand miles away from the border of my heart. The one thing I learned is that my communication skills need much improvement because I know their intentions were good and pure. But good intentions don't provide food on the table. Likewise, poor communication is no excuse to miss breaking bread together.

This one was up in the clouds, I know. But there will be a rainy day soon enough.