today and yesterdays puzzle pieces.
This is what it boils down to,
the end and the beginning of this lesson for the Day:
This energy is just a rental:
you are just a tool for Hir to build herself up
and tear herself apart.
So we can walk through the menagerie of convoluted thought patterns that lead up to or around this ...
They really are a spider web, the Net of Indra.
I point my finger at the origin -
of my present being? of the thought? of Myth with grandpappy Campbell? -
no, with my words and people knock their heads on the words. Seems like nonsense without the behind the stage passes.
So this is paint splattered on the page,
maybe all you see is paint on a page.
I have a meaning I want to convey to you but even before my lips start to move I know that the vibrations will be lost, transmuted,
and you are yesterday or today or next week,
her or her or him or the other guy,
And I can look at what you saw,
and interpret your interpretation,
and its fascinating and so lonely
all I said or did
was really just an inkblot for you to project meaning onto,
That is all it will ever be no matter who or when or where-
This is how to each other we are all Messengers:
of the lessons and messages that we have blocked out,
of the possibilities we have strangled for fear of or because of
it'll all be better if i get
oh why did i say that to him now he's going to think
this is too much
i have to get out of here
The inkblot is all I see if I try to look across the chasm,
so I keep my eyes averted.
Am I not listening? Or am I just avoiding being deceived?
Jedi shit, (but I'm not much of a Jedi so I stumble around seemingly blindly, my eyes are averted to life but I'm headed straight through it- and they are open-,
I'm lying face down on the carpet,
with each breath surrendering my body to it,
joking about submitting your will to Allah but
with me every joke is to be taken anything but lightly
when I realize that the Hindus were right
there is nothing but Self
and I realize while they giggle
and i giggle
that we are hir viscissitudes
there is no true self in these multitude of forms
we are all hunting for ourselves in a hall of mirrors
what anyone wants of you, they have yet to give to themselves
which doesn't mean that you can't be a provider of that
since you are just an instrument of the universe
that they will use to be lifted up
what anyone fears in you, they are resisting in themselves
unable to release that anchor
so they tie you down with it
are you gonna fucking take that?
what they want to give to you
they just haven't forgiven themselves for what they did
or the colateral benefit put blood in the water
I'm learning the mean(der)ing of this moment to moment recignition of spirituality
in meditating in a room full of incense
and a triple vanilla soy latte
Letting go and letting it be
and letting yourself fall
and feel alone
through my music,
through clinging, through letting go,
through every single moment that i am overwhelmed by it or on top of it or under and inside of it,
fucking it or nauseated.
All of these are just expressions of That, and only exist as my own interaction with my self.
This is what I learned at the Meet though it has taken up to this point to re-cognize:
Digits of One invisible hand.
It's all a blessing and my life isn't any different, it isn't any easier,
and I don't look any wiser on the outside,
and I still can't shoot laser beams out of my eyes,
but everything is cast in a different light.
And that is devotion to an inner light
Who burns the fears from my heart
and grind the hopes from my mind
until i relinquish my grip.
This does not happen once
it will be perpetual
for as long as there is