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.