I inhabit a community colored by hyperbole. Every day is the best day ever, and a casual, though authentically curious How are you, elicits a giddy and gurgling "totally amazing" or "incredibly awesome every which way" or some other effusively positive, yet entirely inconceivable outpouring of chocolate-frosted nothing.

The emotion infusing the sentiment is delightful. I'm all for saying yes, breathing gratitude, and vibrating high and dazzling more and more and always and allways. Still, from a linguistic angle, referring specifically to the art of communication, hyperbole does little to actually translate one's experience. The descriptives lend a vague sense of joy, garnished with a dash of oomph, but (AND) they fall short in expressing any sort of qualitative experience such that the listener (or reader, as the case may be) actually understands and hence, connects with, the other person's state of heart, mind, body or spirit. In fact, my experience on bothItalic the doling out and receiving of hyperbole, is that it's an efficient way to keep the other at bay, to avoid connection, to stave off intimacy. To invite connection, to foster and to nurture true intimacy requires us to connect to our feeling state, to the reality of our experience in the moment, and to share it with the other, regardless of how shadowy, mundane or twisted we fear that reality may be.

So, how am i, you ask?

I am sleepy, centered, satisfied, slightly sore of neck and dry of cheek (unwanted afternoon sun) and wanting to be touched while inviting this longing to take its leave, knowing that the empty space that takes its place is infinitely more satisfying in its truth and in its breadth.

Which is my semi-spiritual, slightly heady way of saying frisky; I am frisky.


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