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porcupine
USA
193 Posts |
 Posted - Oct 08 2009 : 7:04:58 PM
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life is an interesting thing because when you have things to say you have usually nothing to say especially on found that it was very humid on the back of such a intersection, by that train in the middle of the north of the country that things are supposedly based in. I mean to say that things are not what anyone can say, and this may not even be true. But it was about to all come loose, I saw the flames reaching the edge of the pillow, something about it seemed kind of rustic actually, and all of us on the beach didn't seem to care, because you know we had the waves to walk around in. And so now that so much of what is inside has been taken out and put into caves and things, which can only be said to be inside by a technicality, I don't know, the poetry of normal moments sways and once again there are only more of the same things to say. Will it ever end? Two fish swam upstream together, one was named Jon and he was searching for a way into the sky, he had heard of the mice people who pull the clouds and was sure they would have a way. Well, it was getting late, the night was like an old cloak, that you could pull over your face in the backseat of a car driven by... fate.
Yeah, because basically, its not about this, and the other fish was not a fish a all, but a frog, and she went by the name of Petunia. She swam not for the skies but because she felt compelled to for her personal integrity. She had made many jumps, sometimes into the hands of children who would be in wonder, but she knew there were even more spectacular jumps to come. But how do I know this? I don't know this, the world is the melting of ivory. Love is what was written, on the wall and now well, I'm on a train, and I'm going to the place that I have never been to ever before in my life, so I'm probably going to be destroyed, and these fish laugh talking about the waves and their familiar and unique arcs, and wow, it really does not mean much to me. But why are you so self centered? When the circles of your life all divulge around one steady purpose is it that its fate or stubborness? So many days waking up to the same maroon colored ceiling, and smelling a various of the same things, some kind of outdoor smell...
I like to cut up sandwhiches but find this does not apply to life, which is too easily divided and better taken as a whole, like a vitamin, because its easier to see the magic in the small things, again and again, when things come to life and use folks as bridges, like gymnasts or maybe even like flowers.
When the things you say begin to make sense, I'm always happy, when they begin to bear relevance or some purpose or reason for being said, I get really ecstatic, I start thinking words and their meanings have something to do with the reason why I ended up on this train to the unknown center of north anyways, and yeah, as far as it seems, it seems true indeed.
Words have done this, but where do they come from? Fish don't speak,they don't laugh, frogs sing but maybe we aren't sensitive enough to entertain the fixings of their social lives, which is deeply rooted in the mammalian ideal of the survival of freedom..
Because, you know it was about five years ago when the people around the campfire made it apparent that there was indeed a circle that had formed, and still I can't say honestly that I care beyond the fact that it seems to lend itself to something that is deeper and beyond saying, and that words themselves seem to lend themselves to things, but is it that they are just the enemy and against the very freedom which we so passionately cling to and then let loose from ourselves through logical spirals that end I guess in the thing we know as existence.
But words only seem too imitate states of life, but can be used as some kind of catalyst for some kind of experience, just as any vibration or electrical... thing.
So if its just vibrations, then maybe its that, we know that vibration is cool, but could only be a continous journey to stillness, that in the blossoming of stillness makes itself bearable.
Be still, love, the words are not bad?
So everyone is born and gets a name, at some point, or before there were names, then there were people came and named everything, and maybe before that there were differents kinds of names, which were all basically the same, even though the things were very different, but I guess its through names that it becomes a lot more obvious that the things that are in life and seem to make differences among themselves like men and women, actually just come from two letters or a variation of letters.
But also, it probably is just the fact that I was taught to think like this that I see this connection but I guess, I might have been taught that for a reason by life. But I mean really, I just know words and vibrations have had more effect on the world than any mere static action. Even though all actions are vibrations, and come from thoughts, or feelings, and what are feelings? I feel like I don't know but I know how I feel, and not how as in the way I feel, but as in the feeling that I feel, I really do feel it.
So it seems like in Wanti all of this becomes a lot more clear suddenly, and suddenly its so removed from the usual sense of what I experience as uptightness over illusions that are imposed by language, but from what I see its language and vibration that led to it in the first place, but I could be wrong, only because as a part of the circle, I only can go by what is apparently outside of me.
Oh clouds
you are pretty loud
like the cows in fields near a house
the horizon is cool
all is full
I am full, a well
ringing a bell
with a shell
who peeks out from the trees
is like 'hey, *stuff about everything i dont get it, honestly'?
I'm like...
and mostly things are just going on
love is like this sometimes with me
and so is there a reason for the reason?
orange oatmeal sun
rain is not coming down
its almost the end of the road
in Schenectady
and the spirits are aligned
so this I say to you world
a tiny orange cat
pounced in the middle grass
from a train you can still catch some things
it came together on its own, it left me out of the picture, i filled the empty space in some capacity and that was all, oh well,
Waking up is like making soup
But how?
this they never silently ask or let dissolve into the loving ether like so many subtle breaths by the trains, I am like wow
people are really unknowable and some remembrance of a pattern sets itself forth,
there were nothing but the swooping cranes and flakk of geese keeping my mind scattered but I knew that it was probably going to be like any other day, Anya hhad said before I left "at least it will be raininng soon,"
these riddles and strange teachings drawings intimations from so far meeting in space Wanti, the space positive-negative and uninfluenced by the flow where I once washed my hair, because even though the exact use of hairwashing is never clear its something that you do. I wake up see little dust floating in the sunrays of the top bunk of my heart letting the boxes stand around like they do, this is a waiting and a being, bean, dream
where again the word seems to hold sprout and take root deep in mother earth, the letters tthat spell the songs of the riversnand the rumblings of thunder earth and sky is what she must have been refering to and the rain in the middle.
So thats how suddenly I remembered it was tuesday, and tuesday means free food at the bakery which is a manifestation of the divine love flowing forth
from so solitary a stoner upon a agreat conifer watching the world
aigy love
for the benefit of all beings
And then I was caught at the gate, where the difference made itself clear, between east and west, and 8 and H, but was there truly a difference? or was it fate? The art of heart mind seems to truly be this, art, the art, the is the heart and the brain, and the connection between these things. When beings gather, it is apparent the connections and the logic in the illogical, the lady applies mascara for a long time, it was ****ing beautiful, and yet so far from the tree that just grows,
out of her realization that it comes from the earth, and the earth in the sky from the source, which is called out by I as Wanti.
It begins easily, but it seems awkward. Distractions are apparent, the distractions are the treasure, when a distraction meets focus, maybe they can become friends, if not lovers, in a more mystical sense.
They copy eachother, build upon eachother, they know eachothers true natures, like fairies and mushrooms.
yup, its a timeless process :).
But up there, I piled in the car, the land was so green and serene, clean air the star in the fielded paths, searching for food in green mountain, bad mushroom, almost died.
does no one know themselves? there is something to claim, it seems, getting better, thinking of goddess, pomo, flo, upto...
he comes and confuses me
and helps but opposes
who can see past the miracle of life
even in the night it was apparent
there was love and
who could really die?
aham prema |
Edited by - porcupine on Oct 08 2009 7:05:18 PM |
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NSB
Australia
32 Posts |
Posted - Oct 09 2009 : 9:17:30 PM
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| thankyou porcupine, that really did it for me in a big way! |
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healing stream of thought
