renditions of self in a shared vision of understanding.

The vision shared by those who stand beside one another, when is it the same?
What fosters alignment?
Is there opportunity to be separate in values and unified in nature?
For years I carried the understanding that despite the differences in perspective and perhaps even priorities, fundamental - two could stand alongside in the world- empowering each to each - disallowing the differences to become a barrier to synergy.
I believed that opportunity layed waiting in opposites.
Or perhaps it was a fool's delusion, the notion of neither being needing to compromise individual ideals...
The instances in which I have been
Shown the clearest reality, have always been those by which I have put aside my fear and stepped forward in the dark- poised for disappointment yet with a nimble hopefulness that my own
Adaptability could bridge the gaps caused by irreconcilable difference.
It became though, the long way to learning, the forfeit of freedom of being at ease with who I am.
Adaptability is a beautiful ability,
But must be cared for with delicate discerning, lest it becomes a liability.
Personal growth is a great and worthy mission, undertaken consciously and nourished by mastery of understanding that alone we are our most statically beautiful rendition of self,-
- coupled, we become (without caution) distorted beauty.
Allowances for ourselves must be made at any onset of a new journey- to create space for the individual flourish, without such stipulated standards it becomes simple to give up our dreams.
I've only ever experienced relationships that have impeded my personal growth - stifled my capacities to rise, to colourfully fulfill my evolution.
Always my healing is sidelined by issues and emotional bait, cast out by those who ought have loved me and accepted my uniqueness bar none.
The reality of human connection is muddied by the ego's great need, to be at the centre of worship and receive its unvenerable stroke.
A long winded explanation perhaps for something that's simple indeed, the notion of shared hearted values-
and the profound inexcusable deeds of a heart that's been broken and battered and in spite...it rises up tall from its knees -
( which habitually have preferred the grounding of being martyr and victim to please.)
The lesson it comes now with the short road and with listening for the whisper of instinct.
I know all the terms of endearment and decipher the code of what's real - and when it comes to the language of intimacy it's as if you must by default feel - as if your own values come second and compromised versions of virtue are acceptable expressions of devotion - when down in the core of your being you're seeking a partner that's real; and understands the best dynamic, is one that's a mutually kept promise to nurture your blossoming and foster your dreams and grow separately alongside your own evolution -complementing each others skill for respecting personal freedom;
And without that, knowing union is an impossibility.
So I've been guilty of disregarding my inner knowing and misrepresenting my level of need. And playing down feelings of pain - but the righteous get second chances when the righteousness comes not of ego.
I still believe just the same as always, in what love is, and in how it can show you the way...without becoming a way to escape.
to be a torch and not an ephemeral flicker- to endure, to be, not in the shadow of a partner.
to challenge the patriarchal, the matriarchal, the societal, the traditional and the typical - i love indeed. but ultimately my love is for me, and i must cease seeking external outlets to fill.
i well deserve my own full heart.
so the answer then, after all the questioning ( not that it ever ceases ) is that in the greatest of romantic ideals, we are one but not merged. the same but not identical, shared but not without unique perspective. yes, you can grow together without fusion.
if we look in the same direction and dream together of a better world, for each other and the collective all, we shall thrive.

Sacred spaces, endless graces, unfamiliar places, when timeerasesnomemory.

The sacredness of our own singular bodies, is a lesser understood dynamic than that of
Intimacy between two.
...the dance of harmony, grace, memory,
Openness, like a witness beckoning permission to engage -
... I lay down for you,
Vulnerable,
Naked,
Without expectation of inevitable occurrence - and you come: like a fierce tide, crashing against the walls of my space - sanctuary besieged.
My presence is a simple silhouette, as I strive to breathe into a rhythm that will ensue only by shared understanding...
- but will miss a beat without mutual pitch.
The soundtrack plays an immediate switch...
Starts soft and modest, acoustic, melodic,
I accept your touch,
Hands hot,
Circling around my lotus,
Beckoning it to blossom,
Welcome you into its wild, and ecstatic wisdom.
If I allow a union, will it be as such ?
Or instead an individualized experience- disassociated from oneness, moreover a solo-act; exploiting my temple as but an object to fulfill a selfish and primal agenda.
The sacredness of my space holds no externalized motive,
it beckons only to be honoured.
The motive of my heart, is to preserve its sanctity.
The sanctity of my body, is a well learned lesson.
Hard earned blessing from past betrayal.
Two years is a vast lifetime, by the measure of the heart.
...The healing brings down walls,
Yet the community remains gated.
grace is a quality, in intimacy, underrated.
Still the soundtrack becomes jazz - unpredictable and without a constant flow, no fusion to lend to your ears the intrinsic healing quality of sound.
My thoughts resonate : If your words mirrored your truth, your actions would align.
Possibility, persuasion and an unanswered promise-
though I said I knew your motives, my perspective was entwined;
by too much loneliness,
not enough emptiness...
& Maybe I was wrong,
Yet Still you were blessed,

In the pivotal moment -I looked up, my eyes told the story,
though you then moved away - the passion did not sway.
despite my lack of surprise,
It is quite doubtful you realized,
The opportunity was arise-
To integrate vs. consummate
Elevate vs. extricate, all the visceral products of your lust.
The moment; well, it could have been ascension.
instead the moment for me, another lesson, the moment for me, it was a weapon-
A warrior's chance to flip scripts.
A manifested vision to shift, all the patterns and habits and roles that saw my former self's virtue unfold-
Unto an absent will. The gift of me given unto to a spirit, ill.

It was Empowering to allow your touch but remain contained and sustained, be not an instant instrument for pleasure,
not a casualty for what could be,
nor product of my lust.
Restraint is a practice of the bodhisattva,
Its yield is the reward of self respect.

I'm alive without validation from the hand of another.
I survive, through the knowing that my will sustains its steadfast aim,
and though I slip sometimes in private,
an instance in the presence of another:
Reveals the keynote.

In the aftermath of a trial tryst,
I stand unwavering,
revirginized,
galvanized
and uncompromised.
I am no one's object,
Not an ideal,
Not a mystery to be solved,
Or a one-off conquest,
Or a dime a dozen climax on any random night.
I am pure and Uncharted terrain;
...only to be blazed by the warrior whose spirit defines, all the beauty i strive to be in finest moments.



-for D.
(But mostly, for me.)
sunday, august 4th, 2013. 1:22am

ambientdeliverance;
qualified movement_
release...
.retract
retrieve:

blessed are we who rise to the occasion, as the pheonix or as the new spring garden spout...
pulled upward by momentum of solarempowerment
living in these times brings great joy, joy and oppurtunity to unleash the sufferances put upon ourselves and as such afflicted onto the earth.. onto all.. for our wounds they transcend flesh and permeate all life...
i ponder as i look upon so many scars, mapping my journey through this world.. inflicted- by such a denial of what's real. such a supression of feeling. carved art across the canvas of my body, faded and aged and bordering on vintage..
they have their stories, each a unique one- stories of pain and betrayal and stories of lonelydesperation... but those are just tales told in lieu of the truth. which was fear, fear to accept who i was, what i was, what i was coming to know, all of it was so profoundly frightening this awakening... caused such great agony.. before i understood its beauty and imperfection and that its perfection is suffering..
alas the lessons unravel as they are meant to and for 15years past i have carried a visualmap to my becoming.
they no longer draw interest or stares as they did, but they live there upon me, reminding me of my own evolution, my own need to nourish, though earned and burned they're as a martyr to turn, what was painful confusion into a conscious respect for my temple.

how long before you begin? before it starts... before the light catches a glint in the corner of your eye coersing your vision to a new direction... or a forgotten one?
alive
breathing
catching the wave... surfing the sand... the days fall away so quickly as you remain paused, poised reaching for the answers that lay buried under the massive strife you have created to house them.
extrication surely belongs to your own soul.
moments pass
days pass
months pass
and you pass the signs on the side of the road that led you astray the first 50times you disregarded them to go your own way
in comfort
or seeking
in excess
or inside.
its time to choose.
what is it you love? what shouts freedom to you under blue skies, what creates undying fire within you... what drives you to create, what allows you to fail only so that you will learn again the lessons your heart sought out to teach in simplicity, before you complicated them.?
i ask myself as i lay here, my temple betrayed, sold out by my own mind. in absence of heart... what is it that i want? what is it that drives me to move forward, where does my passion lay, under surrealistic skies at the edge of the world, under whitestuccoed ceilings at the bridge of your dawn,
what is it that brings unprecedented joy
limitless belief
allocate space for growth, as the roots reinforce, learn to unleash as you unleash so many.
& then reclaim freedom.

make me a temple of light
a haven in the dark corridors of outlandish perception,
deliver me from the insulated chambers of familiarity to an unknown triumph of lasting love.
peace be with my heart as i move forward past the dawns that hold so much mystery they nearly bust at their seems, ignite my will to press forth in the emptiness, i am without and within and forgiven for my sin. none are cardinal.

challenge me as i lay across the night- wielding nothing but my truths to bare witness.
come down from atop your fence,
pop that solvent bubble,
unleash that brace that chokes you- and destroys your free will, yet builds your ego up tall.
ego provides stilts for the atrocities that you commit while struggling to feed it.
for it is always starving, and yet never nourished,
always lacking no matter how full.
i challenge you to rise to the moment and be quick with your wit, for in quickness and instinctual discourse there is little room for fabrication, but still that teeny space for an ego to flourish in.
light in a darkened corner can sustain anyone's hopes for years-
- when solitary confinement wont cut it.
cut it loose.

What comes naturally,
Flows organically,
Exists us without too much strategy,
Becomes that which we must strive to embody consistently;
It's not so much of a mystery,
The reality of harmony
is living aligned with grace, In the dance that is our lives.

If it is difficult
Is it not worth doing?
Nothing worth doing comes easy.
Yet when considering the notion of living in line with natural talent-
It's effortless execution that weaves wonder -around the struggles that seem to give value and meaning to so many worthy challenges.
If I exercised the option,
Of doing nothing but what came simply-
What required no plotting,
No planning,
No measure of conflict,
No pleasure in victoriously overcoming an odd,
Would it devalue the notion
Of working hard against the grain ?
demystify the riddle of the reality of strain?
I find somewhere in the balance
That reality reveals itself.
In a true measure of wordless wisdom,
i've no need to claim capture on unseen duels between chaos and bliss.

The intention is all that matters in anything that is done
Forgo detail, stipulation, clause or consideration - the only virtue in dis-empowered action is the ease of its remiss.

Indeed, What comes without struggle
Without a battle to exist,
Wields the most powerful potential
For freedom - for it is closest to bliss.

So I forgive the countless complications,
The unrequited commiserations,
The lackluster abbreviations,
The shortcuts to solving situations,
That in their purest form of being,
We're never complex to begin with;
In their real est state of intrigue,
Were all but fabricated by my ego.

To draw conquest to conclusion
With measurable victory,
And unseverable unity,
The truth is:
It is easy to be a winner when there is no competition to engage in.
So, does the small insight to motivation-
Reveal much to apply?
Do tiny unearthed truths define the measure by which to strive?
Or is all of it a crafted example
With which to prove what lays
At the root of all curiosity- in the context of the brave -
a neverending need for cultivated chaos,
or the mission to summon courage
to intrinsically survive
When living's Easy-
aligned with innate knowing,
Flow with that which provides no opposition but instead inspires you to thrive.

I am no ones daughter
But a child of the stars
Wandering in emptiness
Through listlessness and casual arrest of vapid hope to save the world.
A self installed dimmer switch controls my degree of lightness
but i've learned to see in the dark.
Allowing sensory guidance to move me forth without necessary leakage of grace.
I recall dawns ignited with promise,
With the seldomly longer seen tenacity of a soldier -
I've tucked away the
Weapons
Yet Amassed an arsenal of altruistic alchemies.

breathe your own mantras

it's of primary importance, reaching balance of (in)ordinance.
collapsing barriers, that promote single-minded defeat in a many-faceted battle.
silence, i know your name.
your familiar resonance calculates predictable action,
for an un-charted frequency you have betrayed.
i understand your unwillingness to waver,
yet will not forgive an un-lived attempt at a life without control.
relinquish needs,
absolve greed.
touch base with what you see as the reason for your disallowed dreams.
a thriving measure of willingness creeps in when you least expect it- next door to silence is birthed the opportunity to become unchained.
adjacent to understanding is bred the solution to all riddles.
there are no answers- no sage advice to follow in the ongoing battle of the self.
you must craft your own therapeutics,
write your own self help book.
paint your own success story,
it's the secret that no one tells you, for they are blind to understanding anything beyond themselves.
what works as a uniform for me, surely will not fit as a ball gown on you.
what makes sense in my unravelling, will only bind you further-
for it is the guru in yourself that you must seek.
do not invest in what another promises as the answer to unbound living,
their answer is your riddle, and your process is most certainly my habit-
the one which i seek to break on my journey to wellness.
on the path to my wholeness, breathe your own brilliant mantras.
swallow none of the potions i'm drinking,
i'll follow none of the leaders you are seeking,
be your own light in the blackout.

if i ever imagined a world where all was possible,
it might be a skeptics fairytale.
i've never gathered any truth to share with masses- nor followed any road that led to the crafting of multi-dimensional understanding by the measure of what you might know as real.
it is a solitary journey, and you are the lone traveler.
connected by the notion that i am you, and you are me- and all is we,
but in the singular sense it's only your perception that leads the way to the collective truth of oneness.
the horizons that breed entry,
cannot be shared.
the answers that lead to understanding,
they are not me X you = truthsquared.

it is tempting to seek your way- if you seem happy
it is endless though to follow a path you did not blaze.

2.3.13
2:22am

Often it's as if I am living a calculated dream-
Without a calculator.

in the heart of hearts we learn to listen.
head down, in slight bow- asking that which is inherently within us, only so rarely is it accessed,
for answers as to how we are to begin, proceed, progress,
commencement comes with the ever so slight adjustment to our perspectives of what is right,
possible,
we are unpredicated
undictated,
emancipated in the hours of after, in the instances prior...
become unchartered.
learning to take advice from the roadsigns on your own consistently accurate inward journey, is the route to righteousness.
i love not to be loved, and accept only that which frees, that which sees to prospering.

always see possibility- perspectivesvol.1

are we chasing the nod or chasing the zap

un-televised incentive to rise, in the eyes of un-uniform demise it's no surprise
your integrity becomes a compromise.
but i refuse to degradate, underappreciate, elongate the weight, of the suffering upon my shoulders.
unburden your arms, unattach your hinderances, play no part in the solemn debate of ego's rapping at your door. for it is but an undermining method to leverage nothingness.
though often in the midst of seeking aliveness i rediscover the art of numb:
only to realize its cool fictitious breeze, is but a passing whim upon a storm.

life begins outside your comfort zone, and even though you may become brave enough to step there or displaced by default and end up there- it is only presence there that leads the way to lightness.

9.6.12
12:04pm

From the death of me, comes the birth of, i.

one of the precious moments in which i could barely get to the keys fast enough to allow the words to willing spill from my inner landscapes,
the vast lands of my unconscious, creative, heart-fire imploring me for opportunity to unleash, to ignite, to set free whatever revelation, however slender,
in its finest degree of art.
in these moments, i have little control.. there is no filter, no process, just mass burning exodus of reason, dis-reason illogical firey creative flow, liberating my mind from the brink, dissolving the barriers which bind me to moments in which i miss,
from lack of being mindful or honoring to my soul,
happens more often than i might wish to admit- it's a cyclical process making my way back here,
to this moment traveling so long, so far,
through halls of memory, rekindling their emotive sentiency for a moment,
recalling just enough data to render the lesson relevant and rationalize it to a place in which its understood. it makes sense. its no longer a threat of becoming regret.

a full cycle comes to a close with the early hours of autumn,
12 months in which i left behind a trail-unblazed but for partial effort to commit.
often when we revisit those points upon our journey in which we seem to attach to unfortunate incident or suffersome circumstance
and wish that we had done things differently, even marginally, for the sake of a potentially better today.
but, would the ability to forsee the future, cause you to change your mind about the moment?
would it beckon you to rethink your logic for decisiveness and action?
dis-empower your bravery, then?
my senses say no, as i sail through the notions, allotting space for them to breathe, unwinding them from my chest-
cutting the last strings on the ancient blanket that has been wrapped around my injured parts, of both soul and incarnation, perceived-ly creating some manner of shield.
though not comfortable, not protective, not warming nor anything meant to soothe- after too long attached to the remnants of the past - it becomes wound wool wear, wrapped wanly around my wounds.
unbandage the limbs, and you shall find them healed- near instantly... oxygen has that miraculous effect... ability to weave vitality into all that it encounters.
breathe into the instant and see again, perhaps the clearest you ever have- that every reason, every justification, every willful, purposeful, meaningful, mindful choice you have ever made- has been brilliant. utterly enlightened- in hindsight, in foresight, in your heart's light, become sure.
sure that you have taught yourself honor, come closer to your truest truth...
unwittingly saved lives,
supersonically allowed for growth,
silently made amends,
furiously been reborn, through seeming protracted paths, that in reality were simply from here to there- yet sans-full understanding of the shortcuts.
the long way always paints a more colourful perspective, later looked upon.
indeed, lessons come harvest- bring redemption.
fertile seeds of suffering that have spawn a long-growth garden, a seasonal shifting, fundamental.
written in time, it has been seen.

here's a worthy ally

 

Demonic forces are self-destructive but very powerful. Divine forces are constructive but slow and efficient. When demonic forces create imbalance, all gods unite, becoming one divine force called Shakti or Durga.

The name "Durga" in Sanskrit means "invincible". The syllable "du" is synonymous with the 4 devils of poverty, sufferings, famine and evil habits. The "r" refers to diseases and the "ga" is the destroyer of sins, injustice, irreligion, cruelty and laziness.

dear mojo,

reverse the magic of your voodoo charms, turn inward the fire that ignites the intrigue,
allay the cool breeze that's blown across my centre for too long.
lift me up out of an arid complacency that threatens with vacany.
you are the charismatic clouds that herald fevered storm.

dear ambivalence,

i have nothing to say to you, one way or the other.

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.

in the wee hours i await, quietly, my soundmachine echoes a pseudoocean
4000miles away i left something intrinsic, and in these hours i reclaim it.
without needing to, as it was never not here to begin with.
ever present.
its often i wait for these hours to dive for the solutions that are under the surface yet protected like waterformed inside a blister, untouchable if it is to heal.
the questions that require asking in order to move forward are always those in which we know the answer to, but have so insidiously blanked from the canvas in the battle with the self to paint great works of transformation.
what is it that i have, that is of use to me in manifesting the life i want, yet i ignore its value, existence, power?
what is the quality i need the most of in order to move forth?
what is it that holds me back and at once gives me great power, for the greatest lessons are always in the most challenging of circumstance.
why is it so difficult to maintain clarity?
i know its not as simple as having too many theta waves running through my brain, deprogramming takes place in a state of conscious being, and i believe no longer in passive therapeutics.
reflection, calculation, civilization, retribution, ambient wonder.... in a single moment you can change the course of the entire universe as it exists to you... yet how do you break those unconscious loops of thought that continue on their vinyl recourse, forgotten meoldies of songs i never knew.
drawn into my heart, imprinted by karmic measure,
im rewriting symphonies without ever learning to read.

the flavor of dreams resonates a sortof recurring message of massacred faith
i swear to myself so often that i have done the work to heal certain parts of myself
certain relationships with certain concepts
but alas, nothing is certain..
and the breeze of uncertainty blows in a reckoning
a time for release.
yet how do you rid what was once so deeply woven into the very essence of you...
conspire to erase what you loved...?
.... seems tragic, impossible, without answer...
and within the walls of forgotten lives the moss grows, the roots still exist
the webs of spiders weaving lament that requires reconciliation, cleansing,
remnants for removal..
this dream i continue to have in which the circumstances change but the message is the same,
reminds me...all is but another opportunity to redefine

in the free and blessed hours where we have alotted ourselves the opportunity to simply be with ourselves without pretense or overshadow or the loom of impending activity... all things have the opportunity to become crystallized.

the telltale signs of progression resound rather subtlely, simply, within the quiet moments wherein we are not focused upon the lists and the arduous path to whateverwhichever staggered success we've fixated upon next, ive been living so long in silence in cyclical patterns within my own mandala, representative of a many faceted approach with a singular intention ....
the mundane creeps in ...so often begging to be appreciated rather than numbed and diluted for an altered perspective, impossible it is, for something to be anything other than what it is, by nature.
i am in and out of the flow when i battle against uncertainty, with refusal to accept its utter perfection
with refusal to recognize my own righteousness, accept my own self-deprication and learn the methods in which to foster healing...
yet i know them. in my bones, my reflexes, my instincts understand.. its only an intellectual block that requires removal..

as we move through evolution and release old baggage and endeavour to move forth with a heart that is clear like the sea... it strikes me how thickly the walls inside us become built up upon... like hardened arteries...
the relationships of my past, regularly haunt me. some more than others and many specific instances, but regardless of detail the premise is the same. its been a series of sacrificial, egotistical, self-indulgent digressions, objectifications, chemical reactions...amidst the nonchalant search for equality and balance and a healthy exchange. i see this first within myself, knowing all of these issues stem from unaddessed suffering- but suffering unaddressed can so easily be healed with simple awareness
we can free our relationship shadows, heal our relationship patterns and begin fresh new adventures by choosing simple confrontation to the house of mirrors in the soul.

in the hours of after
within the focused now, the rain falls slow, springtime blessings,
switch the soundtrack to a stormy solvency
if ther was nowhere left to go, but here would you pay the price of transit fare, awaken through false pretense, embrace the catalyst within...

i was never one of those girls, with her heart visibly upon her sleeve
...always veiled it w/ incognito fabrics, flowing and satin that barely touched the skin beneath them.
....yet still it was ever there, like nipples under a dress, a breeze bringing to attention their exquisite existence...
the heart makes a silent imprint on all whom i touch,
as their imprint is also upon me,
sometimes like a lingering scent,
sometimes a casual whiff of curiosity..
...&never being evident in sensitivity,
i always admired those with an effusive and open temperament
firey dispositions and charismatic transparency.
 it's a gift to determine the most successful way to live under the weight of understanding,
wading through the growth and the lessons
and teaching the heart nothing, ( we are foolish to believe we truly can.
the heart is its own marching band, the bass line a powerful magnetic funk
( &regardless of how well you believe you protect that sleeve, always finds its way back to that place of naked ambition.
finds its way to rise, to unconditonally strive, to surrender without any suspicion of wavering affection.
when does the time come in your life,
when you realize its time to get naked- strip away the articles of fashion that adorn those places in which your heart makes its home
sets up camp
if its on sleeves- go sleeveless
& just wear it like a warrior's armor.
naked but for that lovecharged uniform of courage and grace.

newmoons and downstreaming

on the heels of the new moon the energy flows abundant, infusing momentum, entering untapped arenas of life-giving space... breathe into the now and recall no instances in which you were troubled by the never-ceasing persistence of time,
....timeless are the moments in which you recognize the utter absurdity of it all, the perfection of each flaw, each countered by flourish in the light of an accepting perspective.

each day arises like it was never scorned, never insulted nor degraded nor cursed for being 'the worst'
never begrudging, never holding you to account for your previous ungratefulness.

as assuredly as the earth vibes upon its axis through the journey of the night,
...each never-failing dawn loyally returns to bring comfort to the casualties of tomorrow (  if only they'd notice 'now, their status would improve. )
from casualty to casual...
stay nonchalant, nonattached, nimble in your wit, humble in your words, as most certainly you will be expected to confidently stand behind them.
there is no room for arrogance in the quest to live with meaning.
seems we struggle though regardless, with countless bouts of ego, mindfulness counters, yet still, it slips in - n' while unannounced or uninvited, it's ego all the same.
confrontation of the issues which bind it to existence, will deliver reprieve from the energetic leakage of self-consciousness, of desirous-ness, of spiritual emptiness, of greed and anger and suffering and want- for these are vices that hold no principle to the truth of what's divine.
be instead full, grateful for the smallest measure of insight, the wildest measure of intrigue, as the truest measure of character shines in the capacity for courage.

its never not now and when isnt it?

not much needs to make sense in order to progress -
its a secret inside joke between yourself and you, that gives you the compulsion to derail - ..one that you must remain a party-to
- a pre-emptive tragedy: is changing the channel to auto-pilot; which never saw any evolutionary programming take place in the heart of your hearts.
better to alleviate with forgiveness.
turn off the need for excess
moderation in all things - +all viewpoints become clarified, or more so embodied with the ability to facilitate true-sight.

if you imagined yourself a great vast canyon ... upon a carved earth peak ...a telescope into forever
will you climb within to reach that vantage- or be satisfied knowing such sight is possible.
good question to put things into perspective as to the magnitude of importance of your ego,
an inquiry worth its salt- if you were standing on an unpredictable fault line,
would the earth embark on swallowing you- or would you dance upon it gracefully with appreciation for the utter innocent vulnerability of a planet so ready to open her arms to you-
while you judge and covet and argue blindly with the truth which is so inherently obvious it leads ignorant to seek programmed distractions with undermining messaging to digress them from healing - ...to perpetuate illness, and non-action and exploitation of that which is only natural...

the perfect grace that exists in the symbiotic connection of all living things, inspires a quiet truce within
if only we would get out of our own ways, we could truly know what the missing element for integration with bliss is. its found on a fault line, ready to break open at any moment- demanding justice

can i catch the next train in the recurring dream im having where im always late, the station clock is not on time, i havent the fare to fund a ticket or im hopping off escaping transit police..?
seems the transport's destination remains unknown, or im not sure who to call for a ride once i've missed the 11:43am or the 12:13pm stop.
...perhaps a consistent persistent attempt at getting home, feels that way when im in it,
the dream can never reveal just quite where im off to, but im running...
and im avid like a fujahtive,
or im primal like a refugee.
the nature of instinct lays in the ability not to debate, but to simply, intrinsically- trust.
it's faith that leads traveling warriors to rise up, run off into the nights and the days, wild like unleashed prisoners... escapees from a zoo.
...the real zoo of life is not in the outer-wordly obstacles but the chaos that's within
bound like a rooted sapling, or sprawling ivy vines striving to elegantly and effortlessly cover the side of someone's home...
either one is a starting point for beginning the pilgrimage to unraveling the balance,
discovering the counter point and breathing into the flow...
chaos disseminates with the exhale of realized mundane... a simple awareness of what is.
the way becomes clear, like a path fading into view within the heart of a great mossy forest, ahead- amidst a tunnel of leaves and a mile of unfaltering beauty...you can see
the distance between here and there, is here.
... the rest is barely visible, but the breeze of promise is a certainty.

the sound of evolution, is it a quiet sonnet in the night, without rhyme or reason....
or does it blare into reality remorselessly and randomly like a siren heralding awakening-
solemn are those who desist in controlling the volume of their understanding.
leap like a tragic hero in an epic tale of redemption into the racket...
alive in the instant.
careless out of the gate.
... worry is a tossed article of clothing removed furiously in a sexcharged encounter,
cast off like an obstacle defeated on the way to victory,
to nakedness, to fusion, to oneness of spirit..
enduring are the memories imprinted during moments of epiphany-
...turning points burn right into your cerebrum, tattooed by divine ink without a canvas,
for canvas is ephemeral- ...illusory and constructed only briefly, to navigate art to its most useful destination... - a reference point that becomes a rearview mirror by which to keep tabs on the lessons you have learned.
forward and inward ever stalwart, be no casualty to compromise or to surprise,
w/tbrilliant unexpected plot twists, not corrupted by previous suffering (for if you carry no whiff of retention the pain does not exist...all is an unopened letter, an envelope delivered by the universe.
-an unpretentious choice is one made without assumption or anticipation,
... but instead quietly and as effortlessly as opening an unlocked door

the arc of organic art exists in the absence of overanalysis.
rather it is whimisical, fluid, pointillated by digressions...

to all the peeps whom hurt me, whom i thought had loved me, who had held me close to their breasts... in times of vulnerability and openness and unpretentious acceptance, i believed.
& to those in whom i had blindly believed, and from whom i had not expected the same but had hoped in blind faith would come,
to all those moments i realized, that i silently knew, that i heard my gut speak out-
yet had heard and not listened,
to the nights i spent mourning,
and the days i woke grateful- for the pain and the promise the candor and the compromise,
the notions of wellness and lightness of being and unforgiven instances no matter how great -
to the ultimate reality and the ultimate ignorance and the ultimate need to let it all go,
i imagine great landscapes of resolve and rainy tuesdays with drawn curtains,
smoking & vinyl & green tea & carpet picnics... great formidable reprieves from ego.
a tasteless remnant, a memory's imprint an unforced intrigue not held at the helm
sensual and vast, in blows the weather- infusing the night, a narration its own.
to the storm and the sacrifice and the freedom that whispers, a song that is resonant of reprogramming my routes.
& to those routes that will lead to a soulful salvation, i thank thee with tenure, & perpetual grace.