So here it is. . . .
. . .waiting and wondering, what is the answer to the puzzle that presented itself here? What did he see this time?
The answer is that unless I am completely true to myself. . . honest with myself. . .then I will be occasionally confused. The confusion helps remind me, I am not being honest with myself NOW.
In absolute honesty what can I say is true?
I can perhaps astonish with at least a dozen different belief systems which may really blow the mind. Belief systems which will provide plenty of colored jewels for the intellect to dive into and become absorbed in. Or to be adored and fascinated from afar with.
But still, is any of it so?
What can really be said as true, objectively, without qualification?
Only this. . .I am.
No more, no less.
I want to say, I am "here". . .but I keep being shaken in such a way that my confidence in this reality as anything other then a dream is not something I could call anything close to 'certain'.
Can I say it is a dream?
That is easy to do until she touches me, and her flesh reaches into my heart in such a way that I can no longer play the role of dream character, to myself.
So dream, no dream, reality?
That is a laugh. . . . I can only say I am.
I want to say, I am not "that". . .but I tell you this friends, when she looks in my eyes I know better!
I want to say, I am "this". . . but I keep being shaken in such a way that my confidence in this belief that I am any-'thing' is but an awareness of a temporary 'event'. Something which comes and goes, and something that I AM observes. But is that what I am? Even if so, it would be meaningless. . .as it is only change. Moving sculptures of color, light, and sound, that fade and disappear. . .turning into others but always the same.
What i THINK I know falls apart under scrutiny. . .and searching for a floor to stand on, the mind attaches to any story it can find "juice" or a charge in. Sometimes, maybe often, that is a story about a wound, betrayal, or past event which feels hurtful on examination by the subjective memory of the assumed 'self'.
How wicked, the mind will take that over its own dissolution.
See that clearly and I am free, or to say truthfully. . .I am back to only I am.
does this mean anger and frustration may not arise again from that story? Nah, I have no idea and cannot predict this? Does this mean the mind will not pop up to find something with an even greater charge. . .needing more juice this time for the same effect?
Possibly maybe, probably so?
"WHO" is it that cares, is what I must ask myself.
So if you have perhaps had dealings with me previously that left us both hurt in one manner or another. . .and we meet again, and in that meeting you recognize no remembrance of that in my own eyes, forgive me. I am not callous. . . .
. . . .I probably have just forgotten now.
Bunny Wailer's song "natural mystic" plays and I hear another man that spoke just the truth. What a beautiful thing.
"This could be the first trumpet, might as well be the last. The one try to find the answer to all the questions they ask. The one know its impossible to go living through the past. I wont tell no lie."
So that passes, and something else IS.
And something far more powerful presents itself. Something that is beyond thought, and on another level of is-ness.
FUCK! Pull me back in self, i am not resisting am I?
Karoli Baba was a famous Indian sage. Before he died he gave his journal to a devotee and asked very seriously that his devotee carry on the work of writing daily in it. When the devotee opened the journal after Babas death there where thousands of pages, and they all read like this. . .
RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM AM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM AM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM AM RAM RAM RAM
RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM AM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM AM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM AM RAM RAM RAM
. . .for my english speaking friends that is. . . .
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD
. . .maybe that is the only honest text ever written in this universe.
To forget that great lesson means to remember at some other time and marvel once again at it. How that presents itself to itself is Love, in the capitol L sense of that word.
You know this when you touch her hand and realize in the moment it is your own. I have felt the hand of god, and hear her breath on my neck, as she offered me herself in a way I did not know was possible.
That is remembering the above stated text, RAM RAM RAM.
"After having lamented, he lost his sense completely. He even forgot who he was. Exhausted by fatigue and anguish, he collapsed at the foot of a tree. As Shiva's despair reached the limit of what was bearable, Sati's voice was suddenly heard from the heavens, saying, 'Be strong, oh Mahadeva, Lord of my soul! Wherever I may be, I am never really separated from you. Soon I shall be reborn as the daughter of the mountains and again I shall be with you in flesh. Grieve no longer!' And she did return, as the ever present Parvati, and they embraced in pleasure for ten thousand Years."
And that can be a moment.
It's true to say I love her. Not because it is a challange, but because I have no choice in the matter.
Just is.
Onwards. . .
"All murders, robbers, thieves, and other criminals adore Shiva or his black female counterpart, Kali. . .for no other deity would be able to understand or have as much compassion for their own suffering, hardship, and fear as the god himself guilty of murder and hated by society as an outcast. Which god would grant them forgiveness, if not the ONE who he himself had to wait so long to atone for his guilt."
The answer is that unless I am completely true to myself. . . honest with myself. . .then I will be occasionally confused. The confusion helps remind me, I am not being honest with myself NOW.
In absolute honesty what can I say is true?
I can perhaps astonish with at least a dozen different belief systems which may really blow the mind. Belief systems which will provide plenty of colored jewels for the intellect to dive into and become absorbed in. Or to be adored and fascinated from afar with.
But still, is any of it so?
What can really be said as true, objectively, without qualification?
Only this. . .I am.
No more, no less.
I want to say, I am "here". . .but I keep being shaken in such a way that my confidence in this reality as anything other then a dream is not something I could call anything close to 'certain'.
Can I say it is a dream?
That is easy to do until she touches me, and her flesh reaches into my heart in such a way that I can no longer play the role of dream character, to myself.
So dream, no dream, reality?
That is a laugh. . . . I can only say I am.
I want to say, I am not "that". . .but I tell you this friends, when she looks in my eyes I know better!
I want to say, I am "this". . . but I keep being shaken in such a way that my confidence in this belief that I am any-'thing' is but an awareness of a temporary 'event'. Something which comes and goes, and something that I AM observes. But is that what I am? Even if so, it would be meaningless. . .as it is only change. Moving sculptures of color, light, and sound, that fade and disappear. . .turning into others but always the same.
What i THINK I know falls apart under scrutiny. . .and searching for a floor to stand on, the mind attaches to any story it can find "juice" or a charge in. Sometimes, maybe often, that is a story about a wound, betrayal, or past event which feels hurtful on examination by the subjective memory of the assumed 'self'.
How wicked, the mind will take that over its own dissolution.
See that clearly and I am free, or to say truthfully. . .I am back to only I am.
does this mean anger and frustration may not arise again from that story? Nah, I have no idea and cannot predict this? Does this mean the mind will not pop up to find something with an even greater charge. . .needing more juice this time for the same effect?
Possibly maybe, probably so?
"WHO" is it that cares, is what I must ask myself.
So if you have perhaps had dealings with me previously that left us both hurt in one manner or another. . .and we meet again, and in that meeting you recognize no remembrance of that in my own eyes, forgive me. I am not callous. . . .
. . . .I probably have just forgotten now.
Bunny Wailer's song "natural mystic" plays and I hear another man that spoke just the truth. What a beautiful thing.
"This could be the first trumpet, might as well be the last. The one try to find the answer to all the questions they ask. The one know its impossible to go living through the past. I wont tell no lie."
So that passes, and something else IS.
And something far more powerful presents itself. Something that is beyond thought, and on another level of is-ness.
FUCK! Pull me back in self, i am not resisting am I?
Karoli Baba was a famous Indian sage. Before he died he gave his journal to a devotee and asked very seriously that his devotee carry on the work of writing daily in it. When the devotee opened the journal after Babas death there where thousands of pages, and they all read like this. . .
RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM AM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM AM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM AM RAM RAM RAM
RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM AM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM AM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM RAM AM RAM RAM RAM
. . .for my english speaking friends that is. . . .
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD
. . .maybe that is the only honest text ever written in this universe.
To forget that great lesson means to remember at some other time and marvel once again at it. How that presents itself to itself is Love, in the capitol L sense of that word.
You know this when you touch her hand and realize in the moment it is your own. I have felt the hand of god, and hear her breath on my neck, as she offered me herself in a way I did not know was possible.
That is remembering the above stated text, RAM RAM RAM.
"After having lamented, he lost his sense completely. He even forgot who he was. Exhausted by fatigue and anguish, he collapsed at the foot of a tree. As Shiva's despair reached the limit of what was bearable, Sati's voice was suddenly heard from the heavens, saying, 'Be strong, oh Mahadeva, Lord of my soul! Wherever I may be, I am never really separated from you. Soon I shall be reborn as the daughter of the mountains and again I shall be with you in flesh. Grieve no longer!' And she did return, as the ever present Parvati, and they embraced in pleasure for ten thousand Years."
And that can be a moment.
It's true to say I love her. Not because it is a challange, but because I have no choice in the matter.
Just is.
Onwards. . .
"All murders, robbers, thieves, and other criminals adore Shiva or his black female counterpart, Kali. . .for no other deity would be able to understand or have as much compassion for their own suffering, hardship, and fear as the god himself guilty of murder and hated by society as an outcast. Which god would grant them forgiveness, if not the ONE who he himself had to wait so long to atone for his guilt."
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