I was thinking about spiritual freedom and other things. How many life after death experiences have people leaving their bodies. Maybe this is what happens to our energy. Perhaps this is how we on the periphery of our being experience Angels or other beings. I am sure, like all things, such beings are not all benevolent, such is the nature of things. That thread of thought that once we are released from this suit, this physical anchor that we are indeed meant to rise up, untethered by the rules that govern our limited sense and frankly limited timeline in this form. Such a transformation would be like being born yet again, and in that infancy perhaps we could not recognize our former selves or parents or friends, as we have ended that phase or form of being to move into the new one as a newborn, a whole different set of experience and learning must come from such a transformational change, from physical to say pure energy, a literal stem of consciousness perhaps better suited to plug into the universe to understand things far beyond our little blue pearl that we clutch to so heartily and mightily (for it is all we have known). Truly there is so much we do not understand, even our earth alone is but young in the scheme of the universe, this version of the universe, is it 2.0 … or 8trillion.0 ? We will never quite know in this life, but perhaps as we transfer sphere to sphere we are climbing a ladder of pure knowledge, only allowed to go the many steps that each paved road is for, perhaps forever, or perhaps a door, as we all hope for more I hope to retain… this hope.
lost love post #800,943
the perpetual lucid
a waking dream
as we walk in between
these worlds
dimensions to parallel the past
into a future line
that never was, perhaps
how many continuums have I lead
and tread on down
if only I could choose
my lottery, for when I have found
or had, you, my love
to sound the sound
almost imperceptible, lips meet
where breath is born and retreats
until that last breath
and beyond
might I pass into that thought
the last electron to cross this mind
the last echo of a beat from this chest (will be you)
and yeah, I still think about her. I can’t shake her to this day, I do not know what to do, maybe I am just crazy, we both deserved better… but were meant to be together, and like young fools do, we fucked it all up… I just hope she is ok these days, I really do.
look in the mirror
no, seriously. try this exercise… look into the mirror. look into your own eyes. with intent, take a breath, pay attention, look yourself in the eye, literally, and then speak yourself… admit something you did wrong to someone, admit a regret. look yourself in the eye and speak the truth.. really lock in and be honest… hear your voice admitting the truth as you look.
3am Perp Walk
well, it is almost 3am here… I must say, I really enjoy walking outside this time of night… the ultra late are asleep (or not), the early risers are not quite awake jogging by, usually, almost always, there is a din, a background sound, sometimes birds, sometimes traffic, often both… but now? at this hour, the silence is wonderful, it allows you to concentrate the sense of eyes, to see things… like … who else is awake judged by a light on in a window on the second story across the street… or to imagine what life was like that when the sun went down, the darkness that engulfed from there… most of us grew up not knowing this, even if we are not that far from it, we all have our own experience, we can not judge ourselves for this… every person is dropped into their own circumstance, you have very little control over that, there is no reason to have guilt over that. Birth is a lottery, oddly enough, myself, I was going to be one of the first legal abortions probably… I was adopted only due to the intervention of my mom’s OBGYN at the time who knew a young couple who was “in trouble” and made… well , me… it was pretty out of the bounds at the time, and Roe was new law just months later, I can not say what would have happened for sure but I was lucky to be born, but born I was, and into a family that wanted me (the tech about fertility was not nearly the same back then at all)… so here I stroll, at 3am, wondering about it all, listening to the silence, using my eyes to see anything living, but even among the tamed land… I see hope, in this calm.
the flute
flute is breath
a voice
perhaps then, personality
for many instruments sing
but none so much
as powered by wind
something about something… how personal certain instruments are, and perhaps extensions of ourselves… just something I jotted down at work when I was on a conference call and listening to the above vid trying to keep my center.
yellow brick road at the end
upon golden sunshine
might I lay my hands
or walk across
to the dreaming lands
to know the score of infinity
humming along with
as I walk the path
laid out by god before me
in all encompassing light
as I merge with the peace
on the other side
notes: I had a visual in my head… like a literal vision… not like a religious experience but definitely a clear vision of walking on a road of light, so I wrote this, in the moment, as a response, is it perfect as to what I see in my head… maybe not, but I can’t grant you total access to that… so… I do the best as my limited human form can command…
springing
I would like to believe
that the birds sing-
(for me)
to pause, to stop (dead tracks)
from running to my daily flock
to hear their voice and stop
for surely they announce
(and I can feel)
spring is here
spring is about
even if the clouds doubt
or the temp flounders down
as grey as this day may be
the serenade-
tells me
(all I need to know)
cliche, but sometimes there is a reason for such things, I swear some birds are singing just for me, maybe it is all the bribes of rye bread crust, or leftover tortillas, or actual bird seed in the feeder, I would like to think they make mind of me, of course not, but why not dream it anyway, maybe I will wake up one day as a bird… I’ll try to remember and reward good stewards, but … I will be a bird so…
(and sometimes I am remiss to admit or post that this endeavor is truly just a corner where I post little notes, these are unedited one offs, and if not… I will tell you, not that it matters, I could tell you I worked on them like tilling soil for a week, same difference, but that is just not me, this, whatever this is, is just my thoughts in the forms they come to me, any questions or comments are of course appreciated, thanks for taking the time)
fog walk at night
I just walked outside, 3am local my time, how many times, more of this, do I have, and it hit me, the unique scene pasted over this same scene, how different every day is, and the same, but sometimes, like tonight, we are thrown a curve, a swerve, nothing so different that we panic, but yet so different we take immediate notice, so tonight was that, just now, a fog descended, a fog I say which is a rare thing in these parts, it makes lights resemble spotlights to handle the on stage talent, but nothing is there, just perfect lines, angles demarked, perfect cones strobing down from the street lights, closer lights are just as bright but do not have boundaries like those down the street, holstering their own fiefdoms, it is amazing to witness, and this is usually among us, by moonlight or streetlight, take a pause, for the miracles among us, like the universal cartographer is asking us to pay attention.
to the known end of…
{set scene: a solitary ivory candle wide enough to be cradled by two full hands, on an unseen table in a room with no window, a cup raised in the hand of a shadow arm cast out upon the wall, flickering, larger than life blazed through a grainy projector}
“to the known end of”
the known
how to tinker with creation
while feeding pigeons
bellies full of stones
hollow or dead, what’s the difference
I am
a deadman
for I truly am.
whether I roll snake eyes
or nines
or pull a royal flush
or wind up face down
in the dust,
I am dead man
truly am
so what to do
wait for that line to pass
or pass the line until my last
(breath)
Shades of My Garden 