i am the cosmic cornucopia

a meditation for the moment in which you presently find yourself. or more so, i suppose its me who finds themself, without rest, dreams so vivid they rival the conscious-mind's creations in their expressions.
... do i dream, it's often as if i were dreaming now, some schools of thought would say i am simply a projection of my ego- others might think that in dreams, the ego does not exist.
the only safe haven is the present moment.
the only true reality. and the only place ego can never seek you out- ego and now can not co-exist for one is false, and the other- the only truth.

opening the chalice, i envision an abundance of energy pouring into my open heart, the cornucopia of all the cosmos exists within me.
in this realization all becomes possible.

memes in exile

the burn begins as a slow hot spread from the centre point out.
like emptiness, ignited.
or a tide coming in...
a flicker needs nourishment to become a spark that clarifies,
& once flourished into focus...
we are driving the eye of our own storm,
...fearless despite the mirroring of pain, everywhere.
suffering and lack are curable diseases, if the oxygen could only flow into them... healing the roots of memory tied to their blossoming.
can something not considered particularly beautiful, such as fear or agony, be referred to in the context of 'blossoming,' since the root of 'blossoming' itself, is flowery & vital ?
all things are inherently good. programmed that way energetically. the signature of life is a cyclical optimism.
creation, destruction, light, dark, ying, yang, happiness, sadness... sadness especially is wonderfully flowery. someone once told me tears, were so beautiful...
and to embrace the pain i felt as if it were my closest ally. the notion in that moment seemed so reckless, so unattached, so idealistically implausible, yet how i remember his voice in that moment, catalytic...some of the most sound advice i have ever inadvertently received, offered to the wind... offered to the sea... so many prayers of rising, falling and rising again... the great ashed-winged warrior..
pheonix rising...uncomfortable former encasing- scorched away.
rebirth in another context, purer, more serene, more dedicated.

the three best forms of emotional therapy:
laughter
screaming
crying

pick a favourite and commit your all to finding a way to flawlessly execute it.
really just give it in that moment.
through it, begin igniting the process to exiling your own predisposed holdings...
the fire starts slow... in the centrepoint of being... all lessons come through the heart.
its very existence a great filter to understanding the wisdom of being alive in these times, when the moment has come - come yet always been here... so perhaps it is you that's arriving.
turning to look at yourself, turning to see yourself, looking at you, in a mirror that has your reflection in it. (i am that i am.)
once you focus on the image - assign it a venue- laughter, screaming or crying- whichever one feels right: channel it.
...burning baggage.

form is emptiness, emptiness is form, giving is formless

do i inspire restlessness or is this restlessness simply a manifestation of a fiery drive seeking an outlet to focus on, to burn into slow and deep and consistent, like the eternal flame- deep- wrenching heart expanding and magnetic all at once.. i know this feeling- and often try very hard to dull it, dwindle its light and extinguish its sheer gravity- but it ever findsa way to reignite...a limitless emptiness that is the vacancy peace is made of, waits silently just round the corner near sacrifice, near stripping bare to the suffering that drives, in all its agony the evolution of humanity with its perpetual birth of sacred truth and constant space for possibility and opportunity to

  invoke the pheonix.

is it possible to give everything? evacuate all energy in service to any and all things of the light? it's a cycle, this act of consistently giving to the point of utter emptiness, utter abandon, utter - utter. but is it a feasible thing to believe that you can in fact, even give to the point of absolute emptiness?
...is giving of oneself so fully that nothing remains impossible since the self- philosophically speaking, is non- existent anyway?
...are there different qualities to emptiness? relative to interpretation and dependent upon how one reaches such state?
perspective-driven results that lead to the same state, simply dawning polar-opposite views of said space?...

ego''s slight convolution:
is sacrifice and service and un-suspect giving the road to a place of discomfort, of lack, of depletion and emaciation of spirit?
is not absolute emptiness in some venues of thought, the goal? to be completely free of worldly constraints - eastern flavoured philosophical notions circle around ' Śūnyatā'
the noun form of the sanskrit adjective: śūnya" meaning"empty" or "void"; ( ta = ness )
yet interestingly, its root comes from the word 'svi' meaning " swollen"
it's the added 'ness' which delivers the concept its full breadth of meaning.
(isn;t everything in life about the 'ness'? )
emptiness is in fact transitory- a balance between utter evacuation of baggage to allow for space that is subsequently 'swollen' with potential for personal growth, the realized achievement that allows for liberation and transformation.

the ultimate nature of reality is empty. formless, and the mere phenonmena that we experience, however illusory, crafts our response and interaction with the reality we continue to seek insight and understanding from.

Emptiness of emptiness.

"when we examine the nature of reality, we find that it is empty of inherent existence. Then if we are to take that emptiness itself is an object and look for its essence, again we will find that it is empty of inherent existence. Therefore the Buddha taught the emptiness of emptiness." (In The Art of Living (2001) the 14th Dalai Lama )

what is indeed in question- as not to lose the intent of the inquiry, is the path to which we reach this state of being- existing peacefully in emptiness, fullness, having given all, to open all...

how much suffering and sacrifice and service must be rendered - in order to reach inside and discover a truth so deepened we need no longer question its nature?
it's the actions that shape the lives we strive to thrive in, and the ration of those actions that ought to be self-less, that cause me to continually question-
the concept of giving not for the sake of return in any measure, is always a factor in choice, yet still the nature of intent, deserves a brief examining...
selfless service, cultivation of generosity and unconditional offering in kindness is a welcome practice in my world, as is the desire to do limitless, good for my people- unbound in fact- as boundaries are another topic worth exploring meaningfully at another moment, but boundless is the precise word for the level at which i desire to give to those i love....
so i suppose quel questionnae is simply - what is the bridge between martyrdom and bodhisattva-like behaviour?
is there one?
is it perspective like all else in this existence,even as i semi-articulate the question i know the answer. yet it must be the continual ask, questioning, meditation that moves forth w. fresh-faced pace, the cycle of evolution....

verge

 i have forever been carrying this feeling around with me, that i am on the verge- always and perpetually and never-ceasingly on the verge of something, something big, something vast and wide and wonderful and yet to be discovered. i dont ever recall a time in this life when this feeling has not been present, i live here on the edge of my glory, at the start of my story.

patriotism, reflections, oneness,

i was born here, 30 years ago when the seasons had 4 separate and distinct comings and goings...now we just have cold & not cold.
thanks to the climatechange we've worked so hard to support- (however ignorant we claim to be in that- truth is truth in the story of sustainability.

canada day = not cold; and i revel in the perfect comfort of a backyard hammock- suspended from the roving ants beneath, whose presence floods the ground as if they were troops assembling for battle; in reality though they are simply living their ant-lives.

amazing how life whirrs by as we soundlessly take for granted the beauty of its absolute uncertainty.
its brevity is sobering in the wee hours of midlife- though i never imagined i would even reach 20.
i recall those days, early in self-imposed exile from nourishment, when i thought self-deprication was oh-so sexy, its broody arduousness casting a mysterious shadow of charisma.
i've since learned- over and over, year after year, day after day, moment after moment- that once we let go of shame-- we no longer feel such compulsion to destruct.
sexiness is in the ability to accept. unconditionally.

articulation is always so much easier than execution though... and while the knowledge feeds like an IV drip, somehow, its so simple to ignore- take for granted, to allocate attention elsewhere.
...must be the rush of learning lessons that hit like a car wreck? ...like a needle to the vein of understanding... but is it overwhelm that is craved, or simply pain?

are we addicted to tragedy?
am i?
is it avoidance of the grey area- ( as an abhorrent purgatory where i may bide time striving for nothingness) or is it the fierce feeling of waking up wild- like an unbound protagonist in the arc of my plot?

i seek not for an answer but for a simple appreciation, as in: knowing my fate is not held by an answer.
as life unfolds each moment, and im untold each instance...
led down some great stretch of unmarked highway, signless terrain,
w/no map or app to navigate what is real- i become that much closer to discovering grace.