Sydney Wonder

Timeis nothing more thana ribbon; a ribbonof stretchy, durable,unbreakable, cruel silk;stringing together thetrillions of versions of methat I have been;creating the torturous illusionthat Iexist.-Sydney Wonder

Time

is nothing more than

a ribbon; a ribbon
of stretchy, durable,
unbreakable, cruel silk;

stringing together the
trillions of versions of me
that I have been;

creating the torturous illusion
that I
exist.


-Sydney Wonder

One Year Anniversary

With a technician’s precision, I slice off
a bite of homemade eggplant parm,
the utensils held with technique between my fingers.
With a caveman’s determination, he saws off
a chunk, his entire hand wrapped around the fork handle.
And this rubs my appetite with suede,
suede moving in the wrong direction.

I watch as he takes a hefty gulp of Aloe juice
and wipes his mouth with a big, rough palm.

The hungry boy who loves me
with every inch of his heart
doesn’t even seem to notice
what I now imagine on his hands:
wet, sticky Aloe juice,
absorbed into his big, rough hands.

I imagine everything they have wiped
that he must not even notice,
absorbed into his big, rough hands;
like the dirt under the frat house couch
that I once witnessed him lift, to retrieve a lost pong ball,
using those big, rough, dusty hands
that he did not wash, before touching
my clean skin, my fragranced body, my conditioned hair.

And just as I taste the delicate entree, he leans in.
And time slows down.
And he’s breathing close to me.
And he’s looking at right me.
And he kisses me, softly.
And the white glint inside his shiny black eyes
explodes into mine— and I fall back in again,
50 miles deep, into the sweetest,
warmest, happiest place I’ve ever known, that place,
there, inside his shiny black eyes.

He pulls back; he smiles
the big warm adorable smile I have loved…
Breaking my heart. I wish it were
the only thing that mattered.

I watch as he takes another hefty gulp of Aloe juice
and wipes his mouth with a big, rough palm.


-Sydney Wonder

I wish some things could live forever.I wish we could escape growing old.We’ll all be dead one day, I know;Gone is everything we’ve ever known.
Even if you understood with me,about this deepest emptiness ahead…Even if you vowed to fight it with me…We’d grasp the sails together,we’d push against the winds,and route ourselves awayfrom the black hole named Timethat swallows everything.
We’d hug in victory— still together!our hearts exhaling in relief;only to fill again with hopeless tears,when our humble boat circles around another way,back toward Time’s terrible swirling hunger."You gotta hang on!"is my desperate cry to you,over the vacumn’s chilling silence.Horror fills me as I watchthe skin crinkle around your eyes…the features of your face age…our memories in your brain fade.And then you’re gone.She got you…The new you got you.I curse you through tears,for leaving me alone;until I catch a sightof my own hands, creasedwith wrinkles of their own.Then Time whispers gently to me,that I also have left you;and I have left behindthe previous me, too.Even though there’s nothing leftit’s so hard to surrenderto this hardest final lesson:I may keep nothing on this voyage…Not even my own company.- Sydney Wonder

I wish some things could live forever.
I wish we could escape growing old.
We’ll all be dead one day, I know;
Gone is everything we’ve ever known.

Even if you understood with me,
about this deepest emptiness ahead…
Even if you vowed to fight it with me…

We’d grasp the sails together,
we’d push against the winds,
and route ourselves away
from the black hole named Time
that swallows everything.

We’d hug in victory— still together!
our hearts exhaling in relief;
only to fill again with hopeless tears,
when our humble boat circles around another way,
back toward Time’s terrible swirling hunger.

"You gotta hang on!"
is my desperate cry to you,
over the vacumn’s chilling silence.
Horror fills me as I watch
the skin crinkle around your eyes…
the features of your face age…
our memories in your brain fade.

And then you’re gone.
She got you…
The new you got you.

I curse you through tears,
for leaving me alone;
until I catch a sight
of my own hands, creased
with wrinkles of their own.

Then
Time whispers gently to me,
that I also have left you;
and I have left behind
the previous me, too.

Even though there’s nothing left
it’s so hard to surrender
to this hardest final lesson:
I may keep
nothing on this voyage…
Not even my own company.


- Sydney Wonder

You know, right before I die I think I will publish every single diary record I have written in my entire life. Every private, shameful, inspiring, dramatic, poetic, pathetic, mundane detail of every secret thought I’ve ever written to myself. Why the fuck not. It’s pointless to try to protect or cultivate any ounce of your ego once you’re dead. Might as well air it all out and say, “This is everything I can possibly tell you about who I was, the life I lived, all the good things I did, all the wrongs I committed, and the things I felt. Now to everyone in the world, goodbye forever!

I will publicly slay my ego, and then I will die. It will be so liberating.

Everything I need for this voyage of life is already inside me. When I was born into a baby’s body, I was a seed. The whole concept of life is simply a chance to allow every bit of my seed to be expressed, to bloom into its adult form. I was given a body. I was given a consciousness. I was given a birthplace in this world; my starting point. I was given choices to make. I was given an unknown but limited amount of time. Given even a family. Given love. In being born, I was given everything I need to live this particular life. The universe took almost 14 billion years to make me, to arrange me into this specific combination of molecules. As humans, we get to enjoy a pretty amazing existence that is so full of richness. We get emotions, 5 different senses, and so many cool experiences to feel out. Like the experience of having friends, the experience of walking, of dancing, of talking, of exploring. I mean humans have only been around for .0005% of time itself, so… we’ve gotten a pretty sweet end of this deal. Most of existing has never been this cool or fun.


There’s no need to feel pressure about this amazing gift, either. You’re a seed of the universe. Don’t be afraid. You were made exactly this way for a reason. And if you just happen to be one of the extra weird ones, no, you do not have to be a single bit like anybody else. It’s true. You don’t need anybody else to validate your existence. Your birth was your validation. Your unique DNA, which is coded into every single cell in your body, is your birth certificate. That shit is yours and only yours! Let it become what YOU want it to become. Just go be yourself. What you want deep inside, is what your DNA wants to do with itself during its life. Don’t apologize to anyone who doesn’t want what you want; quite honestly, they simply just don’t understand. Even the people who are on your side will never truly understand, simply because all of us can only live inside our own consciousness. It’s lovely to have friends along the way, though. And it’s okay that we’re all on different journeys. Just be thankful when you get to join hands with other friendly voyagers for a short while, and share a great view of the world together while it lasts. Never take it personally if or when your paths diverge. You do have to walk your own path, and they do have to walk theirs, after all. Wish them well on their journey, and remember them fondly when you look back on your life’s adventure. 


I think I’ve come a long way, and I’m proud of myself for that. I’ve risen to meet my challenges and smashed through many of my obstacles. There is, of course, a lot left to go and much still to learn. Even just yesterday, I fell down. My rebound time after each fall is getting better, though. Each time I fall, I get back up a little quicker. It used to take me like, months to years after a fall. Now I seem to push forward with a lot more ease and lightness. It’s pretty easy to do, once you start to acknowledge that the past is over. Who you were no longer exists. Who you are today is real; the past you has already expired. Every morning, a new you is born to a new day. Every night, the past you goes to sleep and never wakes up. By morning, you are a new person. Your brain and your cells have literally changed over night. It’s much easier to move forward when you’re not trying to drag your dead past self with you. 


I’m not nearly there yet, though. I know what stands in my way. The fear of discomfort, for example. The fear of shame. But most of all, the fear of greatness. I’ve worked deeply on these throughout the past year.  I gained clarity and saw that there is nothing in the way but my own mind. Every obstacle is nothing more than an element of the game, like a spiky cactus in a Super Mario video game. You just gotta take a little extra time to jump over it. Or sometimes, it’s an ocean standing in your way. All that means is you have to jump up onto the clouds and take that higher route, collecting the hidden coins along the way.


I won’t even entertain the thought that I’m not strong enough for this journey. Forget that. I’m not going to even think about it, because it’s a useless idea that does not make me strong. I am strong. I choose to be strong. Power isn’t given, you take it. And it is just that simple to choose your destiny. Yes, your destiny is the one you choose. Have faith in what you believe. Sometimes, you just have to do a little digging to find out what those true beliefs are, deep down.


You are an incredible self-aware, even self-repairing machine, and a work of art that the universe curated over billions of years of evolution. All the right answers (for you) are already written inside you. Dig deep, find them, and follow them.

That is all you will need.

I just noticed a card over there, stuck to the wall of my room. Looks like flowers on the front cover. Who put it there, and who gave the card to me? If I stuck it there, I have no recollection of doing so. What is the story of how that card ended up right there, in such an odd spot on my wall, half hidden behind the bundle of clothes on my coat rack?
This room tells stories. Every careless piece of clothing. The colors it has. The mess it contains.
As a writer I ask myself, which stories are the important ones to tell? I’ve come to the conclusion that everything has significance. Indeed, it does. Simple observation proves that. You can go infinitely into any direction around you. Just pick any pixel in your field of vision and zoom in as close as possible. Pay close attention. When you’ve gotten as close as your vision can go, go further into the scale of atoms. Even beyond the world of atoms, is an even more intricate place of subatomic particles, like quarks and leptons and things you can’t even imagine. Things that have never even been imagined, by anybody who’s ever lived.. yet.
I wonder, maybe too often, about what my story holds. I’ve decided that I will choose my story. I chose the answer in which I have the power, and that decision became the reality. What an indescribable privilege it is, and what a remarkable gift, to have been given such a beautiful thing as my very own “reality”. I understand now how it works. A little bit.
My reality is a place where I, and everybody with a living conscience, choose the answers. The answers you choose for your reality are as real and true as they will ever get, in the whole entire world that you will experience. What can be more real than the entire universe that you experience? And who’s to tell you that your experience is any less robust and valid and real as their version of it? You’ve got to trust your understanding of your life—it’s all you’ve got and all you’ll ever have. Yes, everybody has a distinct one of their own; that’s okay. You eventually realize that it’s futile to try to push your understanding of the truth on anybody, simply because there are just so many truths. No two people will ever share the same exact beliefs of the world, because the truth is so infinite, and each person can only experience a certain portion of that truth within their lifetime. It used to fuck me up trying to figure out why there are so many individual consciousnesses, so many different experiences of what’s true, instead of one big collective consciousness the size of the universe. I came to the conclusion that there are many distinct consciousnesses for a reason; a very big reason..
My reality is a place where you can have anything you want, and I’ll tell you why that is. Because “what you want” is not just something you arbitrarily chose, by some careless mistake or some accidental misfiring of the neurons in your brain. “What you want” is really this unexplainable entity that has chosen you. In other words, you have this “what you want” stuff for a reason. Your deep desires, they’re not like a bunch of meaningless superficial flies that have to be swatted away so you can focus on “what you ought to do”.
No. Your desires are a compass pointing to your purpose in life.
This idea of “what ought to be” might be one of the biggest shams in the history of mankind. The more I explore this Earth, the more people I meet and the more ways of life I observe, the more this “ought” concept crumbles away to dust. You don’t even need to go anywhere out of your way to realize this. Just open your eyes and start to see what’s here. See the infinite number of ways people and things exist. Just take a walk in New York City and notice how odd and different another human can be from you, and from your ideas of “the way one should be”. I think that’s why I’m drawn to a lot of wacky characters. I admire their bravery to be the wild things they simply are, and be them loudly.
It’s good to want things; you’re supposed to. In a way, your desires are your destiny, pulling you through life from within. Following “what you want” may actually be your only breadcrumbs to finding the point of living; if such a thing as a singular “point” even exists at all.

I just noticed a card over there, stuck to the wall of my room. Looks like flowers on the front cover. Who put it there, and who gave the card to me? If I stuck it there, I have no recollection of doing so. What is the story of how that card ended up right there, in such an odd spot on my wall, half hidden behind the bundle of clothes on my coat rack?

This room tells stories. Every careless piece of clothing. The colors it has. The mess it contains.

As a writer I ask myself, which stories are the important ones to tell? I’ve come to the conclusion that everything has significance. Indeed, it does. Simple observation proves that. You can go infinitely into any direction around you. Just pick any pixel in your field of vision and zoom in as close as possible. Pay close attention. When you’ve gotten as close as your vision can go, go further into the scale of atoms. Even beyond the world of atoms, is an even more intricate place of subatomic particles, like quarks and leptons and things you can’t even imagine. Things that have never even been imagined, by anybody who’s ever lived.. yet.

I wonder, maybe too often, about what my story holds. I’ve decided that I will choose my story. I chose the answer in which I have the power, and that decision became the reality. What an indescribable privilege it is, and what a remarkable gift, to have been given such a beautiful thing as my very own “reality”. I understand now how it works. A little bit.

My reality is a place where I, and everybody with a living conscience, choose the answers. The answers you choose for your reality are as real and true as they will ever get, in the whole entire world that you will experience. What can be more real than the entire universe that you experience? And who’s to tell you that your experience is any less robust and valid and real as their version of it? You’ve got to trust your understanding of your life—it’s all you’ve got and all you’ll ever have. Yes, everybody has a distinct one of their own; that’s okay. You eventually realize that it’s futile to try to push your understanding of the truth on anybody, simply because there are just so many truths. No two people will ever share the same exact beliefs of the world, because the truth is so infinite, and each person can only experience a certain portion of that truth within their lifetime. It used to fuck me up trying to figure out why there are so many individual consciousnesses, so many different experiences of what’s true, instead of one big collective consciousness the size of the universe. I came to the conclusion that there are many distinct consciousnesses for a reason; a very big reason..

My reality is a place where you can have anything you want, and I’ll tell you why that is. Because “what you want” is not just something you arbitrarily chose, by some careless mistake or some accidental misfiring of the neurons in your brain. “What you want” is really this unexplainable entity that has chosen you. In other words, you have this “what you want” stuff for a reason. Your deep desires, they’re not like a bunch of meaningless superficial flies that have to be swatted away so you can focus on “what you ought to do”.

No. Your desires are a compass pointing to your purpose in life.

This idea of “what ought to be” might be one of the biggest shams in the history of mankind. The more I explore this Earth, the more people I meet and the more ways of life I observe, the more this “ought” concept crumbles away to dust. You don’t even need to go anywhere out of your way to realize this. Just open your eyes and start to see what’s here. See the infinite number of ways people and things exist. Just take a walk in New York City and notice how odd and different another human can be from you, and from your ideas of “the way one should be”. I think that’s why I’m drawn to a lot of wacky characters. I admire their bravery to be the wild things they simply are, and be them loudly.

It’s good to want things; you’re supposed to. In a way, your desires are your destiny, pulling you through life from within. Following “what you want” may actually be your only breadcrumbs to finding the point of living; if such a thing as a singular “point” even exists at all.

From 50 feet above, a magnificent crystal chandelier spreads its golden light across the grandest ballroom. It smears streaks of luminescence all over its walls. Shimmering strands of light hang off the crystals and drape around the room as they please, blissfully ignoring gravity’s boring rules. It’s absolutely silent, except for the soft tinkling of glittering light that floats throughout this golden room. I’m absolutely alone, except for the presence of a majestic love and belonging that infuses every square centimeter of this place.
The floor is also divine. Marbled, like cream and peach swirled ice cream. Cold and smooth, it feels like glass beneath my naked feet. I move my right leg forward and let a single toe connect with the surface.
Slowly, cautiously, I siphon my weight onto my pointed right toe. Grace itself lends its arms out to support me. I have no fear. I lean forward, still on pointed toe, letting my stomach fall softly into the arms of Grace. I’m now craning like a ballerina, my left leg outstretched high. There’s no pain or resistance, only fluid motion. No effort or expectation, only destiny unfolding. In perfect harmony, we synchronize a turn. I whirl, dipping my head under and through the doorway of my outstretched leg. The room does an uninhibited, love-drunk spin for me—oh, how beautiful this world looks in motion.
And then I fly. We take off, Grace and I, weaving about one another to a cosmic music that directs our dance. My torso and limbs elongate; my heart uplifts like a helium balloon reaching for the sky. We tumble about in the enchanting air of this golden room, both writing and playing out the song in my soul at the same time. I am fearless. I am weightless, limitless. I am manifested. I am simply being. I am free. I am immaculately beautiful, because
I, am.- Sydney Wonder

From 50 feet above, a magnificent crystal chandelier spreads its golden light across the grandest ballroom. It smears streaks of luminescence all over its walls. Shimmering strands of light hang off the crystals and drape around the room as they please, blissfully ignoring gravity’s boring rules. It’s absolutely silent, except for the soft tinkling of glittering light that floats throughout this golden room. I’m absolutely alone, except for the presence of a majestic love and belonging that infuses every square centimeter of this place.

The floor is also divine. Marbled, like cream and peach swirled ice cream. Cold and smooth, it feels like glass beneath my naked feet. I move my right leg forward and let a single toe connect with the surface.

Slowly, cautiously, I siphon my weight onto my pointed right toe. Grace itself lends its arms out to support me. I have no fear. I lean forward, still on pointed toe, letting my stomach fall softly into the arms of Grace. I’m now craning like a ballerina, my left leg outstretched high. There’s no pain or resistance, only fluid motion. No effort or expectation, only destiny unfolding. In perfect harmony, we synchronize a turn. I whirl, dipping my head under and through the doorway of my outstretched leg. The room does an uninhibited, love-drunk spin for me—oh, how beautiful this world looks in motion.

And then I fly. We take off, Grace and I, weaving about one another to a cosmic music that directs our dance. My torso and limbs elongate; my heart uplifts like a helium balloon reaching for the sky. We tumble about in the enchanting air of this golden room, both writing and playing out the song in my soul at the same time. I am fearless. I am weightless, limitless. I am manifested. I am simply being. I am free. I am immaculately beautiful, because



I, am.



Sydney Wonder

I
Eyes everywherefor me to see.As they, tooare seeing me.Being..Me.
I love eyes,and I love how they shine,and I love the power of mineto fix upon another pair,and stare straight in,for as long as I dare.
I, Eye, I, Eye, IShow me all you’ve got inside.Let me step right through, and imbibethe eternity of your universal mind.To see and be seen, you see-makes me know I’m alive.
I loved your eyes,I always told you that.I loved how they were kindand deep, letting me come in and hide.
And now these eyes of minehave lost their loving home.Voluntarily, they leftto courageously fashion their own.
-Sydney Wonder

I

Eyes everywhere
for me to see.
As they, too
are seeing me.
Being..
Me.


I love eyes,
and I love how they shine,
and I love the power of mine
to fix upon another pair,
and stare straight in,
for as long as I dare.


I, Eye, I, Eye, I
Show me all you’ve got inside.
Let me step right through, and imbibe
the eternity of your universal mind.
To see and be seen, you see-
makes me know I’m alive.


I loved your eyes,
I always told you that.
I loved how they were kind
and deep, letting me come in and hide.


A
nd now these eyes of mine
have lost their loving home.
Voluntarily, they left
to courageously fashion their own.


-Sydney Wonder

I am the flower; you are a bee. I’m holding my power; you’re not consuming me. Let’s dance in the floral air I’ve perfumed with my love. I wanna make you high, and put my spice into your blood. You see, I can make you come alive. Set fire to your mind, and electrify your insides.My kiss is an invitation to a mystic dance. I’ll show you the playful and captivating game of romance. You might be the special bee, when you finally show your hand, who tastes the sweetest flower in the land.See you intrigued me there, high up under the twinkling city’s moon—yes you. Let’s stay and dance awhile. I want you.
- Sydney Wonder

I am the flower; you are a bee. I’m holding my power; you’re not consuming me. Let’s dance in the floral air I’ve perfumed with my love. I wanna make you high, and put my spice into your blood. You see, I can make you come alive. Set fire to your mind, and electrify your insides.

My kiss is an invitation to a mystic dance. I’ll show you the playful and captivating game of romance. You might be the special bee, when you finally show your hand, who tastes the sweetest flower in the land.

See you intrigued me there, high up under the twinkling city’s moon—yes you. Let’s stay and dance awhile. I want you.

- Sydney Wonder

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