and on it goes....
to relinquish maniacal control,
to know one is not only one's own —
to know one is also an expression, a function, of the whole.
to grasp but not hold,
to see through,
to let go.
to become less to become more.
one awakes and a thousand things beckon.
sirens outside. the phone blares.
you have barely returned from sleep so fair and already your mind is chained down, pulled apart, by the circus.
not even a breath! not even a breath ! not even a breath in the freedom of fresh air.
you stumble and tumble trying to hold it all up.
tick tock. the day goes on. each seconds adds yet something more.
a red light — you'll be late! the jerk in front of you won't get out of the way.
frustration builds inside you and right now, everything you hate.
and what a toll this all take on you; for you carry the weight of the world —
but why, who for? for you? weren't you supposed to, by now, have had it all?
and yet each day the anger, the blaring alarm, only grows.
and what if you let go? what if the plates come crashing down?
no — no way! what a great, most embarrassing, scene you would make! the crash will be so loud it will be heard all over the place !
and for a moment, all will turn and laugh; and you will be absolutely humiliated.
soon, you are standing alone, no one in sight —
everyone is gone, gone their own way, their own million plates to balance today.
and all those who laughed?
they could not stay for long either — for they too were running quite late.
how can one ever be alone?
wherever one goes on this earth though the ground might change, night and day, the cycles of nature, are always the same.
deserted, forsaken, misunderstood, misapprehended?
look up and there they are — the sun, the moon, in their place in the sky.
they have seen you fall, they have seen you climb — they have followed you all your life.
befriend them. befriend the earth, befriend the stars;
they are your companions in this dream
— we all are.
a long time ago a man walked, a man lived.
you walk too, don't you? you live?
so tell me when is the age of heroes, the age of myth?
your being responds with a 'now' before you can think, I hear it.
lo and behold, the great secret;
it never began, it never ended — it always has been.
"Footpaths weaved their way through blooming foliage; small mounds and strange trees, vibrant shrubbery and flowerheads of incredulous size lined the walkways in neatly gardened and strange patterns. Each path twirled along as if a fable, speaking in a cryptic language of form and vegetation; it spoke in smells, sights, sounds — laughing in mythology, breathing in mystery, revealing nothing. "
excerpt from upcoming story... perhaps...
love your body, it does more for you than you can imagine;
it is the vehicle for your dreams, the carriage for your light —
what else than this could be more divine?
less of a mind-body split,
more of a mind-body partnership.
peace. peace. peace.
despite all things, there is peace.
beyond all things, there is peace.
inside all things, there is peace.
everything is peace playacting not-peace,
stillness playacting motion.
two people talk about a person whom they have never met, never seen — their information comes entirely from nicely curated, cut and edited segments spewed forth by the great altar of TV.
The day is nice, the day is bright, but these two are caught up, now, in hopeless bickering.
They spew hatred, they spew venom, they throw around words obscene, fighting over stories they have been whispered to by an automated headline making machine.
Who are these people they talk about ? Where do they live? Miles and miles, from here, no doubt — perhaps a whole kingdom away.
What happens when the camera turns off? Can you know? Can you tell?
Are you willing to bet all you have that what you see is what is real?
Can anyone prove half the things they say? or is it all the king's hearsay hearsay?
two people talk of a person whom they have never met, never seen — and the day cries, yet again, as it is wasted away.
a small secret this site does hide —
but only those with eyes that behold the mystery of light
might find where it lies.
ah...always the necessity to add one more clause,
one more thought,
one more word;
for how can one ever instantiate and contain the whirlings of this ineffable universe?
— just when one thinks all has been written, another indispensable addendum must be stapled on...
for the moment one has turned away a new thing, unseen before, has come to light.
an endless pursuit, clause after clause, word after word — and yet one can't help but helplessly play this game, this game of the absurd.
all it takes to get there,