10/06/2025
Messy
I am messy. Not the kind of messy that suggests one was simply rushed, let things go wild, until they returned to right things once again.
I am the messy that suggests greater forces at play. I am the kind of messy that looks like things one’s elements have been placed in a center fuse to spin wildly, yet predictably, with utmost abandoned.
The problem is not that I am both of these. The problem lies within my need to judge the one for the measure of the other. Not only are the scales unbalanced, the ballast needs replacing, making it dim while attempting to address the instability.
Messy is the current state in relationship to the highest state available. Not within the components themselves. You cannot measure one with another. Their weights do not translate. You must view each separately, in its entirety, as a whole into its own.
Only then can the elements sort themselves; firmly, effortlessly, seamlessly.
You do the work of tending to the elements as we guide the sorting.
Messy is out of sorts: out of sorts with the outside measure, Divinely sorted with messy perfection on the inside.