Saturday, April 02, 2005

Madness is. . . . .

. . . . believing that someone else, or something else can save you from yourself. Madness is believing someone else is the cause of the suffering you hold. And madness is also halfway home, because at least now you know it's not you that has caused it, or you that can save yourself from it.



What is the one thing that is always guaranteed to create suffering every single time. The one thing that will without a doubt take a moment, any moment, and make it worse.

The answer seems obvious. . .the moment you compare it to any other moment.

Either the distorted past, or the imagined present, either the imagined worse, or imagined better. . .it makes no difference does it.


"Tell the truth boldly, whether it hurts or not. Never pander to weakness. If truth is too much for intelligent people and sweeps them away, let them go; the sooner the better." - Vivekananda


Without that chatter of measurement what is left is way too much to confront openly. I base that solely on the fact that it is not. And I speak only for myself, only always. What is faced seems like nothing short of a certain death, also called "unknown". Again, being unconfronted it must therefore be unknown.

Somewhere over time people began repeating a very poorly thought out cliche. . ."Ignorance is bliss." . . . .absolute nonsense.



Ignorance comes from the same root as "ignore". To be ignorant is to ignore something.

What we ignore is pain. . .and their seems to be a billion ways to do it. The only common factor among all of the various ways seems to be the fact that all of them, given time, lead to more pain.

I remember one very common method to ignore pain. . . the creation of a drama. . .one which will capture all our senses, and wrap up the mind in its thoughts. A grand distraction, our own personal soap opera.

This becomes harder to do as time goes by. Like anything else, it requires greater and more frequent doses, and eventually makes us sick.

As it becomes harder we will require what any group of humans needs to feel secure and temporarily safe. . .some form of minor or major consensus. . . .'do you believe what that person said?' 'they are (*^%$@) don't you think?'. . . .otherwise stated. . . ."Please support my judgment of these events, person, people, place, or idea, so that I may continue to convince myself of its reality, and importance, within this life. It helps fuel my drama, and therefore distracts me from having to face (_______) ."



Each eye, alone
half of a pair, drawn into a whole
closed under exhaustion
since from this moment on
the cherished face of the beloved
could only be imagined



I also ask myself. . .what is the one thing that IS, which does not have an opposite?

Zero = 1
Emptiness = Form

Once you go through the list yourself the only rational answer would seem to be. . .

Love

Love is the only thing that has no opposite, no shadow.

Personalities cannot Love. Personalities want something.

Love is something deeper then all that, something beyond the opposites.



Feeling that this is what IS is not the same as knowing it, and may indeed be drama. Heat without light (understanding), can burn. Understanding in an intellectual sense that this is what IS is not the same as knowing it, and may indeed be a drama. Light without heat (feeling) is seen but not felt.

Could it be the light of dynamic wisdom, and the heat of a compassionate heart which when united become Grace.

So I am left with knowing, and with a little reflection I realize that the only way I have ever truly KNOWN anything was by experiencing that 'thing' itself, firstperson.

Then I realize that these two things, the means used to avoid facing the unknown, and the means used to experience ones true self first hand, are exactly one and the same.

Which brings me back to the one thing without an opposite,

Love.



I'll grant you, golden goddess:
he has the joy
of embracing you forever,
without pause,
since he carries your supple body
mixed into his.
Still, inside of him
that three eyed god
is ever burning with sorrow,
for he will never see the gentle light,
Alive with Loving,
in your eyes.




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