Thinking orange, today
May the pain fade away
From years of abuse
May we begin to heal, together
In our own ways.
May we respect the gentle folds of our inner life
May we learn to pass the feather 襁
We yearn for a passage with less strife.
Let the storms pass, to make way for calmer weather.
sdd
When already wandering on an one-sided, nonorientable surface, where does one begin? Some call the route, ‘the twisted cylinder ‘, whilst, others insist on calling the same, a mobius strip. It’s best to acknowledge the irrelevance of where the beginning ends or where the ending begins…
For now, the ending begins with the shrill announcement and recall of the first spring Robin. A beautiful sign, denoting the neverending change of seasons. The stillness, otherwise, stands in awe of the breaking sun. The mediator, between lingering darkness, and, the insistent spread of newly discovered lightness. Etching fingerlings of magic dispel cowering shadows while warming the aging feathers of hoar frost.
A stratacumulus morning evolves with the breaking dawn. A skewer of marshmallow clouds create shadow dancers to mirror the sea. A rippled version of impermanence, alchemy shredding the thin veil of reality. The road is created by our ability to become integrated, as one, while maintaining the essence of our identity, as an individual.
I am feeling grateful, in the most humbling way. Washed and bathed in insignificance. The warmth experienced, combined with a profound sense of noneness, is found, cocooned within a downfilled sleeping bag, apparently.
Nuka, my companion, the faithful Wolamutt, scouts the parameter of our temporary home. Time becomes timeless in the sleepy moments prior to absorption into the daily ritual called, ‘life’.
The natural need for elimination is expressed. Slight discomfort felt, initially, building in a crescendo of sloshing waves, with each attempt at prolonging the inevitable. Acceptance is the freedom from resistance. A change in perspective motivates my desire to change my perception. Coffee becomes a new and more appeasing rationale for leaving the warmth of my lair.
The exit to my not so hallow stump dwelling is approximately four feet by two feet. At my age, ’58’, I marvel at my ‘self’s ability to become a bendable gumby. I become malleable enough to squish through to the other side. The other side being the physical world where one gets all their wordly needs met.
First thing first, a long hot pee. Orgasmic heat pouring from a sterile receptacle of infinite capacity. Pure joy! Standing up, without a groan, is no longer possible, however, I am satisfied knowing it is still possible. Such a chilly morning, but, I am layered. Time to put the kettle on and get started on a fire. The wood is soggy from a winter filled, rainy season. No complaints. We definitely were parched during a thirsty summer.
Fire is lit, small wood chips flare. Fire is an art, each spark to be teased into a collaborative inferno. Built with love and care, I will tend to the warmth of flames for most of my waking hours. Pondering other human’s thoughts will be my company…
“This world, which is the same for all, no one of gods or men has made. But it always was and will be: an ever-living fire, with measures of it kindling, and measures going out.”
Heraclitus regarded the soul as being a mixture of fire and water, with fire being the more noble part and water the ignoble aspect. He believed the goal of the soul is to be rid of water and become pure fire: the dry soul is the best and it is worldly pleasures that make the soul “moist”.
Grabbing the coffee, mug, thermos and a spoon, coffee and cream is about to become a reality. The kettle suddenly rages, spewing angry spitballs while whistling loudly. I carefully turn off the fuel to calm the necessary calamity.
The moment prolonged, the first sip announces the break in another nocturnal fast. A moment spent in awe at how simple pleasure is achieved. Nirvana, nothing else matters, until the next moment is revealed. I wash my face with the remaining hot water. I am truly blessed in the spirit of just ‘being’.
The acquiesce mind is determined to find some flaw in a picturesque scenario. A decent sleep helps find the courage, to find humour, within such a persistence. Nuka breaks a sombre thought by practicing a take down.
A formidable prey, I turn to face off and to prevent my calves from buckling. He certainly keeps me on my toes. I am reminded, ‘it is breakfast time!’
Contemplative thoughts cast aside, food preparation is the next logical step in getting a basic need met. Crunchies for starters, followed by raw chicken drenched in a sanguinous sauce for Nuka.
I can tell he approves because my calves are no longer on the menu. My breakfast is an apple pocket heated in the glowing coals and a skewered Italian sausage, cooked to perfection, over open flame. Each fatty drip causing a heated clamour on snapping kindling.
It is almost noon, the morning necessities taken care of, time to pull my chair close to the fire, in order to ‘meditate ‘. Staring at the ruddy ember, my eyes are transported, mezmorized, while, feeling the gentle hold, embracing my journey, to the underworld. Humbleness is not lost on the mastery of my insignificance.
Floating is my preferred mode of transport. I become a river flowing, weaving here and there, carving new paths for no particular reason. Transformation is always ‘childlike ‘, full on innocence, yet, synonymous with reality. Vulnerable warriors. I wonder why humans fear themselves?
Psilocybin, psychosis and paranoia has reduced my fear, quite significantly. Another paradox. I am privy to the twisted cylinder. A plebeian practicing the art of obscurity. It is a fortunate position to find oneself. I have met with Gods and Goddesses. There are many. When open and receptive, don’t be surprised if you are invited for tea. Finding their lodging can be tricky. The tea, even trickier.
Snap! Back to the physical realm. The embers dimmed, the flame is dying. Attending to physical needs is a full time endeavour! The tranquility gained from meditation, is the key to simultaneous time travel. Today is a day full of paradox. I realize practicing insignificance is absolutely futile, on the other hand, too much significance creates obnoxious arrogances.
I now understand, ‘to be or not to be ‘…
‘…that is the question.
Whether ’tis nobler in mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles.
And, by opposing, end them.
To die, to sleep -no more- and by a sleep to say we end.
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks.
That flesh is heir to. ‘Tis a consumption.
Devoutly wished. To die, to sleep – to sleep – perchance to dream:
Ay, there’s the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come.
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause…’
Hamelit’s Soliloquy – WS
Something is amiss when the old want to keep living and the young want to die.
In order to understand this paradox, all feelings must be scrutinized for the emotional response evoked. Cognitive dissonance is an universal pandemic. The determinants for homeostacy are simple, ‘feel good; ‘feel bad’ or, ‘feel free ‘. A good alchemist understands how to adjust the atoms of a particular charge. Bring on the ATP!
I walk the line for ‘me’, ultimately, sets the stage for self actualization. ‘I am good enough ‘, ‘I am doing the best I can’, screamed loudly, is pivotal and completely necessary.
Historical memory is unmanaged ATP. My earliest recollection is from a visit by, ‘Coileach-oidhche’, the ‘night-cockerel’. I was three. My Crone guide to and through the underworld. At the time, I was petrified because I misunderstood her intentions. I must let go of this fear.
Today, I truly appreciate Goddesses’ visits and the light she brings. Caer Arianrhod (aureous Borealis) is home away from home. Together, we look upon reality, without distortion, accept, ‘it is, what it is’, while knowing, that the magic, spirituality is capable of, causes infinite changes in all patterns.
Zero to ten
Eating daisies with the bewildered deer. Eyes darting, full of anticipatory fear. Fawning ingrained, don’t buck the system, my spunky way may have waned, with budding resistance.
Shining buttercup yellow under the chin. Cognitive dissonance was always near, no way to see a win. Much to my chagrin.
No apparent compromise. I could not hear the worldly wise. Where does one begin?
Eyes wide in wonderment and mainly without malice. At this point, mostly clueless that life might be flawed, although, it was mighty callous.
There was no time to be cute, or so it felt. I learned to walk before I crawled. Brought to my knees by the rattle of an angry belt. Learn to cower. I did melt.
Ten to twenty
The fears become reality, as the buck smells my scent, no more childhood, my sexual wonderment sacrificed, the male spent.
Naive and gullible, full of unhealthy attachments, it would take thirty more years to reduce and practice the art of detachments. To painfully learn self worth, finally, on my own turf.
Twenty to thirty
Survival of the fittest becomes the name of the game. Finger pointing, full of blame. Control freaks everywhere, I can’t breathe. It’s killing me. I am trapped, no where to flee.
I am dying inside. Yet, I hide. If I follow the rules of humanity, surely, I will find freedom and the courage to claim a life free from this impunity. She thought, with a mouth full of gullibility. Such a calamity.
Thirty to forty
Some wins, some loses, face to face with reality. Some fun, some grace, perhaps the time where life gets sung, at a quickened pace. Such a fascinating duality.
A small glimmer of independence noted. Oh lordy, what a crazy race!
No one can keep up with this super human pace. Not sure what happened, no time to emote, a decade done, all by rote.
Forty to fifty
Exhausted, fatigued, an overwhelmed feeling, on rinse and repeat. The all too familiar pattern. No longer intrigued. Admit defeat.
Please, I am hoping to blast off and escape to Saturn! Who turned off the lights, we need a latern.
A foreboding sense of realization. Knowing and accepting the inevitable. The end of one era, the changing of creation. Wow! Life is incredible and harsh. Sometimes, I can be such an arse.
Giving up is hard to do, ego destroyed, the humbling ensued. It feels like an eternal seasonal flu. Fevers and chills, oh, such thrills! Brrrrrrr.
Spine tingling endorphins, fueled.
Fifty to …
Adrenaline filled, death defying jilt. Is this really ‘it’? The death throes of ego, as she goes into a fit. Water me quick, before I lilt.
A reminder of purpose. Shattered dreams. Long forgotten carved out streams. Festering wounds, filled with puss. I wondered, why all the fuss?
It’s all free flow now. There is no other place to hide, I am a slippery slope, you best learn to slide. I have taken the self care vow. I’m a big girl, wow!
No escape into escapism. Awareness of the other dimensions. It’s time to grow and forget the me’ism. It’s now all about accountability and we’ism.
The shedding of shame, no more blame or redundant guilt. The breaking down of the foundation, makes room for Planet Bazaaro to be built.
The possibilities are endless, a glimmer of hope. I am becoming inspired, infused. An empowered little dope.
Know the Tribal call, it lifts me up when I am no longer buoyant. Unable to keep afloat, too much weight in the bow. It’s a secret, for now, until I am jubilant.
My MO…
No regrets, yet, dazed and confused, nothing to lose while flailing about. Completely amused. In an universal, constant state of entropy. No longer steeped in other’s doubt.
To be continued.
As I wake up, I scream, ‘I am here, I am here! I shall hold all love in my heart, for, the essence of love is intoxicatingly dear. I refuse to succumb to this stifling fear.
I know, I know, it is confusing. Filled with mistrustful tensions, for the act of loving, is in the art of letting go, of the best of intentions. The acceptance of impermanence, whilst, allowing the humblest gesture of losing, to flow.
I breathe, I breathe, for all answers will be found on the ebb and flow tide of each lonely soliton. Our individuality collapses when we become one.
I stand, I stand, in peaceful resistance, for it is unconditional love which is in an interactive collision with eternal hate. If I stand and you stand, love will prevail, not long past the phase shift, a new paradigm emerges, as the one that already exists, the old submerges. It ceases and desists.
I will be brave, I will be brave, for it is my ancestors who brought me to this place. Their trials and tribulations were not made in haste. To honour and validate is the greatest gift of the human race. We must learn, so there is no more tragic, painful waste.
I am grateful, I am grateful, for despite all appearance, we are maturing. We love one another, despite all this posturing. It is time to reset, to balance, to begin a life of nurturing. Let the unravelling to unfold. This is the moment of befuddlement, time to be bold.
I urge you to meet me somewhere in the middle. No more judgements, just play your best fiddle. Visualize our best self. We must agree to disagree while converging, this is not a time for independent faith! It is in our best interest to triage the diverging, to keep us safe. This will be our communal wealth, full of abundance and the bestest of health.
We are here, we are here! Each and every atom, documented proof, right down to the infinite Planck. No need for fear. We are validation. It’s time for celebration, the only way to force traumatic resistance back into its rightful place. Stop being such a wanck!
We must begin to accept and acknowledge, our darkside is no different than our light side. It has a rightful place. Potential darkness lurks behind every beautiful face. Be aware, we have ALL fallen from our position of grace.
Please, no more war. It is by far, the most tragic use of power. So tainted, so sour, so heartwrenchingly dour. This may truly be human’s final hour.
Make love, not war! A peace offering, a bouquet of pretty flowers. Crimson red, an ocean of blood shed to offer our sons and daughters. Is this truly our finest hour?
sdd
Anima meets Animus, the results tend to blend when allowed to unfold. Unify for Solidarity. A walking contradiction. No wonder there is such insanity.
My heart is a tough love. Made of rubber, she might blubber, yet, keeps her rhythm through every surreal adventure. I pay homage to my clock ticker. She takes a licking and keeps on ticking.
The heart is an enlightened muscle that gets bigger and better with use. Handle with care because it withers and dies when subject to abuse.
I prefer the heart love when merged with the brain love, found above. It disappears when the seeker attempts to control. Tough love is natural, it is authentic and trustworthy. Open the taps, we must allow the flow.
No other love will send me topsy turvey like the love of the heart, when she is merged with the brain. Whole love is not a brain drain. All judgement ceases when working in unison. Trust is an art, requiring collaboration. A necessary component in completing this magnetic connection.
I highly recommend this merge on Planet Bazaaro.
…and it’s that simple…how?
…become united, find common ground amongst your differences and use strength in numbers for peaceful protest, write poetry, songs and stories, build momentum, don’t let the ‘fear’ of government stifle the voice, trust if we move in this direction even without all the ‘how or what next’ planned out, the answers will follow.
Stop doubting your emotions, ‘they’ are screaming from the slow sucking festering wounds inflicted on the good citizens. We allowed these corupt leaders, the political to the corporate directors and so on, down the line. Shit rolls down hill!
…drive the government crazy! Let’s get rid of this antiquated global system. People forget that the only difference between those in charge and those who follow, is fear of the unknown. Whether it is the queen or a homeless person from the streets, who disrobes in the hospital, I can assure you, both, look exactly the same underneath the garb…maybe the most notable difference being the fat content BMI.
I suspect the queen has the perfect amount or maybe a bit more fat, however, very rarely is a homeless person overweight, and, typically are malnourished. Despite differences in body mass, all are mere mortals and equal, despite our many shapes and size; same suffering occurs; same colour blood flows and so on.
Consequently, both receive the exact same treatment. …why should it be different anywhere else, outside the wall of the hospital?
People are people. It is a powerful perception that wealth and being white somehow makes you smarter or better, it causes us ‘regular’ folk to be intimated and unempowered. Powerful people know this and can smell vulnerability. This is used to their full advantage and intimidation is a tool to exercise power. In laymen/women’s terms, it’s called ABUSE!
In between birth and death is all a crap shoot. Location, status, wealth and even health, all can be challenged at the right time. ..humans can’t help it if born into a rich family, just as the opposite is true. How odd a society that blindly accepts this is how ‘life’ works especially if fortune enough to be one of those born on the better side of the continuum.
Block out the ‘so called negative people who are just jealous because they have to grovel to try and get ahead. How many Leaders start out with nothing? It happens, but, typically these ones suffer from Stockholm syndrome. As in abused household, you are a whiner if you point out the differences and you certainly don’t let on your background is less than affluent. Hence, you learn how to play their game quickly, for fear you will be outed….think I’m kidding?
A ‘good’ government focuses on its people and listens. A good government treats its citizens equal and offers appropriate assistance wherever needed.
I have never experienced a ‘good government’ and although I was young in the ’70’s, the smirkish slimy grin Senior Trudeau gave, while providing the West a display of his middle finger, is an act I’ll never forget. ..as a young teen, the interpretation of this act was ‘Fuck you’ people of the West, you have no power and I will give you Nothing …that’s my impression and objectively, this is confirmed by our staggering poverty levels, discrimination and down right incompetence. The hole in the money bag gets bigger and bigger, as a matter of fact, the hole is so big, it needs a Damn to cover it 🙂
. ..this is not just subjective data and it is an image inprinted in many people’s memories, I was sure he should have been fired on the spot, no lawyers, no dragging through the courts, etc. ..same with Gordon Campbell and his drunk driving charge. For some reason, even MADD did not appear to challenge Gordon’s criminal record…for me, I was left trying to explain to my two young teen drivers, its okay to drink and drive, well over the limit, but, only when you’re a politician holidaying in a different country. No criminal record, no punishment, just a nice cushy job where he could practice the art of half smirks while delivering the next bone head idea. ..blah blah blah.
..the game is: Baffle with horseshit and while everyone’s head is spinning go in for the under table deals. ..no one will ever catch on. Reminds me of a three ring circus, in more ways than I care to think.
Wake up people. Time to engage the midstructual brain. The issues we are struggling with are all symptoms of a much larger toxic bio hazardous wound inflicted upon us over and over and over and over again. ..voting a different government will not stop the hemorrhage.
The use of objective data and transparency is a must. A halt to money wastage is imperative and maybe our choice should be to get rid of the almighty dollar. The solutions are endless, if we can get our shit together and start particpating in the values, ethics and morals we want to shape our world in.
There are enough people around the globe who are genius at their given passion, can you imagine the power, if these were the people helping us move in the direction we would rather move in…collaborative, teams mature enough not to resort to childish ’round tables’ finger pointing, deflecting political morons who are as shocked as us when voted in.
Collaborative teams understand the well being of the team is of the utmost importance. It is inclusive of all roles required to run an effective crisis or to problem solve what appears to be an insurmountable problem. A well oiled team is Empowering and spirit lifting.
I am so sick of seeing leadership grandstand photo ops. I’m afraid blindly ‘trusting the government’ days are disappearing/gone. We are in the Era where knowledge is the new currency. We need to speed up the process, so we can roll up our sleeves and turn the rotting compost into usable rich soil
….come on ‘PIGMENTS’ (a class of no colour) let’s show what respect, tolerance, openness, teamwork and love can conquer. Keep your spiritual beliefs and what days of the year you decide to recognize and celebrate to yourself, but, be open about what it means to the Universal whole.
This is how enlightenment starts.
(last sentence – purely subjective).
Live and let love flourish xo let’s get at er. …pitter patter
A rose will pose,
with unconditional woes
Tears it appears,
unabashed;
without fears.
Smashed!
My childhood home is surrounded by oaks. An old creaky house, so full of, not so quiet, tricksters and ghosts.
So often, I imagine floating, laying supine on my bed, all five senses engaged and held by the limbs of the mighty dar.
High up above, the wind rages, the Druid knows, the sweet spot is found, bound in the roots of the underworld.
It is as simple as letting go. Embrace the thunder from the outraged Thor. Inevitably followed by lightning, the powerful electricity needed, to burn an entrance way. Magic reveals the passage through, to the layers of dimension.
I feel the power, I am a conduit, a connection to a fantastical place. I feel the unconditional acceptance of the sun God, Dagda, and in return, I become unconditional love, warmed by my father’s face.
The mighty dar, a majestic warrior, standing stoically, as the cycles of life flow into the deep vortex, as is, its natural state. My guarded vulnerability is safe, when I trust the embrace, of my familiar childhood soulmate.
Westcoast Rebel 