"We are like shadows who are in love with the sun. When the intensity of light appears, we vanish--chasing ourselves away"
-Rumi
I want to imagine that purity has been tainted and question the meaning of purity; of tainted. Something must be renounced and then something else....
Laziness?
Regret?
Indecision?
Lately I know:
Benevolence and ease-the illusory promises that accompany hard work towards universal peace-emerge from left field in the form of angels that move in and soften blows. We seek to procrastinate to add to the magnanimity of a task or situation--or perhaps to remind ourselves that it is never as difficult as we think it will be and the ripples of one drop in a serene pool cannot be measured or anticipated.
The quiet ones have the most to talk about.
Many feel that we must emit to release, but extended periods of silence allow the foremost to loose potency unacknowledged and die as the stock pile moves up in line to meet the same fate. A clean slate, a clean canvas reveals the true nature of inserted components usually un-noticed by our deadened senses.
Each plug is a sacrament, for example: Consuming something electric causes an electric presence in the body. Souls then pass on through an untimely death like a posession of heaven; of the
kinko's on 45th and Rooseveldt. Are we to invoke and thus stimulate or shy away for the peace brought by a lack of information? Our bodies and cushion doesn't decay with age it only follows life's tendency to supply what is needed and dissipates as we replace the blanket of protection over broad areas with categories and refinement of tastes brought by wisdom--saving time and sharpening the direction of experience. We trade accrued knowledge for an agreement that once we know, we will be expected to act accordingly. Could this possibly be the deal with the devil that is so often referenced? I must say no for heaven is found in a lack of discrepancy between it's bliss and the cleansing fires of hell (as far as I know).
And to my beloved in all of your sheathes and manifestations:
Nothing is magnanimous, nothing is anti-climactic. I follow my unfolding heaven and the language of coins from coast to desert, from assholes to angels to realize the deeper echelons of ambiguity. If only I could broadcast the ways that my curiosity has severed from my emotional affectation. If only I cold enter an exchange with an initial and universal understanding that I rely on nothing but change and bearing witness; that I merge with people, things, places to satisfy my desire to know what will happen...to understand my own reactions. If only I could eradicate fear from every being--including myself. Every "you statement" is a projection--right? I was told (by one who knows) recently that we can never really love anyone but ourselves. This was a difficult thing to accept for most people until we remember to wonder if anyone or anything actually exists....
We can only be sure that it all acts as a mirror and we gravitate towards that/those who create a pleasing reflection; the challenge is to avoid damaging the mirror or realize that the same reflection can be found in many places; many reflections may be found in the same places. This requires a sense of reality untainted by expectations and an understanding that stability is found inside. I have recently seen this and come to a desire to cease running from one to another; to incorporate and allow to accompany- ankle weights are fuel as they build strength. I suspect that this is a point of maturity-being that I am a 28 year old woman and once we understand, we are expected to act accordingly.
With commuincation as a guise for the exchange of energy, we dance gaily through an array of love songs to our selves until we find the most pleasing and then we play it over and over again in different keys attaining an ever-deepening understanding of it--as the choreography swells and deflates with intensity.
Oh to have space for a different experience--even if to calibrate our chosen from time to time. Perhaps repetition and desire for new or boredom act as fuel, and renunciation creates space for a path....I fear entrapment-making open doors differentiate between homes and cages. To keep one foot out the door prevents me from exploring the depths of a room--so I must either keep stretching and stretching my limbs and eyes or trust my ability to continue exploring regardless of the archetecture of a given space. In this modern age, we thus ponder this query and pine for some established set of guidelines for this new freedom from old traditions as the need that established its roots are deteriorated by self-sufficiency and increased reliance on technology. We must decide which components can be antiquated by the passing of time and development and which are inherant to our fruitful existence.
I am only alchemist--lead into gold, glass into diamonds, something from nothing I pull and incarnate; filtering and releasing toxins to those who want them. My self, a mysterious essential, becomes more and more evident as I shed your skin and release it back to where it came from. (I am a rose I am an onion).
