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porcupine
USA
193 Posts |
 Posted - Oct 19 2010 : 12:41:17 PM
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Moderator note: Topic split from here.
thats very interesting Scorpio I have had kind of a similar experience similarly, this is part of it that I wrote but its not exact at all, but yeah.. its similar, and yeah snakes... i was being attacked by snakes, but finally i spoke to them and they seemed to have stopped.. but read this and its so wierd the similarities.. i think its a sign, a sign that you aren't crazy for one, though maybe what is happening is, something is happening.
Nori sat on a hill top where the pines had grown in a v shape, and among the soft needles and the little plants sprouting up she searched for her lucky rock. She was tired and it was getting dark, chances of finding it were slim, she had been all throughout the wood yesterday when she lost it, probably dancing. Her hands brushed over something that looked like it might have been it when suddenly a bright light appeared from behind a pine, and it said "Gibti!" its voice like a cross between trickling water and a bow and saw.
Nori's heart jumped a little bit but she was not afraid, she had heard of the will o wisps, and their inhabitance in this wood, "Gibti!" Nori said back, saiding more like a living breathing being, whom she was.
The light was puzzled, its white and greenish hues mixing like a small primordial stew on its otherwise featureless mass. "Gibti, Gibti", said it, and a great rain began to fall, huge drops like muffins, wet muffins, which burst. They soaked Nori quickly and she laughed of the sheer exhiliration, and as she grasped her hands together, she felt a stone between her fingers, lo, it was the lucky stone, with its marbly rainbow surface. She was ecstatic, and thanked the will o wisp, and they both danced for a while, up there, the gray clouds, and the humming drone and the joyful twee of their voices, no doubt merrying the worms and the spiders, gone to seek relative dryness, the warmness was in their song.
They clogged and Nori felt her clothes grow heavy and swing more dramatically, hugging close to her body, it was so great, and the light being circled her even at three times the speed spiraling, bouncing, like a tyke sun, alive in the world. But then suddenly, the wisp was gone, and the rain was gone, and there was the warm fuzziness of soft sheets and blankets, and Nori found herself waking up on a bed. It was dark, but there were glowing beings still upon the walls, and they would move occasionally, though it was hard to see, like phantoms, but appearing smiling, dark purple like nebula among the black that sparkled with all the rainbows of its empty vacuum. It seemed as the entire galaxy was there, and not just one room, but realizing the bed was not at all familiar, nor the fellows moving about quietly, from which seemed to emanate an indistinct mumbling, she knew it could very well be the universe.
She heard it in her head then, as one of the tiny ones hopped upon her knee and said, "welcome my dear, to Aerinia, you are the Chosen One, you have fulfilled the prophecy, you must come with us!"
The elf like beings upon the walls danced, around, it all began to flood back to her then, all those memories the train station shuffles, the insistence of truth, the endless horizons, containing only the futility of her own savage heart, the bright light which sometimes flooded her spirit in the darkness, even among waking, which suddenly had set things right, was it that they were memories of this world?
I'll go.
And the elves began to toss stars into the sky in an arc and the golden intricate bark and branches of a tree trunk that seemed to go on endlessly became visible.
"I'm Iyunir" said the little lady, offering her a broom, many times her own size, that seemed to appear from a small rough woven sack even smaller than Iyunir. Nori was puzzled and awed but this was surpassed by delight as Iyunir, interrupted her musings - "You know what to do, Abanily" She said and floated away on a tiny broom of her own.
Abanily did know what to do, and rolled in her bed and she found the grass growing, and felt her way to the moss, and sank in, like a stream of water, down to the mouth of some grass. and there she stayed, forever.
Iyunir, heard knews of this from the elf, Hermes who had divined it from the old oak tree, long ago, and she laughed, "Aye the greatest heroes are sometimes by virtue of their virtuous waiting."
and with that the fields, grew again bursting with the bounty and the fairies returned in their leafy cloaks and they fluttered with obscene and peaceful language about stirring the deer, old lady hermit and the, lout. Oh and the elves, returned to sacred nothing, lovers of emptiness among the stars. Where a voice could be heard, a voice, a thousand voices, the voices of those who had fallen in love, eternally.
But Abanily, found herself within the tree, and the tree smiled an inward smile, they seemed to be one, this is love, and this is eternity.
and they each came by in turn, one with nature, and nature's dream.
And when the stars where arced across the sky, she loved it most, and everything was there it seemed, she was happy.
Her roots reached out everywhere, even where they were not, and the circle of life was complete, it was all one being, all of them, like a great bonfire of love, a great pleasant fire... and the fire and the air and the earth and the river and all the people and their dreams and the rolling oceans and the dragons in their invisible wonder and all the great beings were one being, Fading Into Nothing, and Nothing was like the Pomo, great bringer of change, from the higher world, where the bright sun knows, where Yaveyetta sows, and where Iyunir flew off then, returning ever again, within prose.
There was never that much to do, except remark on how everything changes, those realizations where the holidays, when suddenly again it seemed to flash ecstatic, and again those memories, or perhaps she began to see them like seeds which foretold of the future, for where we adventure to, indeed takes us closer to home, and how it all changes, even without conception, or anything like that. Though they did their work, all was equal in the natural law, and it was only that voice, those same voices, all those who had ever glimpsed love, their endless poetries, on spontaneous matters.
And I am only inspired in the primal waves of those matters, to put here, this which comes of that, this which is that, because we are they. Did wanti spring from zen practice or from not grasping? Springs, just spring, like spirals slinkies, could this be true? The world was split in its symbol but whole in its, motion, all possibilities, are me, are my language, join me in eternal love and we'll rock out!
I joined, and so I sprouted, under Agni, the sun, like Nori too, so and yet none of it had happened, and like free form jazz, we glawned some phrase of an apostrophy, free of catastrophy and instilled with the sincere cry of love, within the universe, and like leaves now this fall are, coming up from that spirit out there, eternal, which we move in, is it life or death? Again, I found myself in the buildings, within the trees, but they had changed, it was all so different, and strange, and around me, the people, truly it was some strange nightmare, and all of it was beautiful.
The frogs have scattered, like my mind. Every frog was a leaf child, wild and Maerin ran out there too, in the space of infinity, where there is I looking to I, and lived a life, simply as we all did, and yet it annexed.
Between is the emptiness which does it, it was all one book and we continued it on through the pauses, nothing could be excluded, not even the truth. Thus we had joined together, defeating time (compassionately), and reason, for the greatest good.
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Edited by - AYPforum on Oct 20 2010 02:44:56 AM |
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porcupine
USA
193 Posts |
Posted - Oct 19 2010 : 12:43:18 PM
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I try to write stories, but as a philosopher I understand that nothing is real and so to write is story is probably a beautiful miracle in non existence. That being the case even the orbits were thrown off, suprisingly, this made things even more harmonious because its seems our delusion of having been right was totally incorrect, we have always been wrong, and it is the wrong which should be celebrated and praised, out of respect for non existence. Hence every great shaman, alchemist, and river is indeed not anything at all and its resulted to a matter of feelings, these are the grooves of life and are incomprehensible but ever fertile, ever true, its the way it is. A deep practice of forgetting and one reaches a sacred place, as keen as realization, but shallow like empty explanation, every utterance, ever feeling is the enlightenment meaning the happening and the happening which corresponds with not happening is the honest truth which is manifest in beings who have seen the whole dharma and practice charity in a true sense, for here, what is inexplicable, comes from a deeper prescient wisdom which is ever evocative purely through that which is now which is never exclusive and so ever word, every instance, that which is now, contains all that has ever been and will be, and is meaningless, nowness is a drunken dragon spilling the brilliant dharma of true wantism through love, the winds are open and the people see, the workings of nature, the spirits bless them everywhere, they bless themselves, like nothing and nothing, why such growing, everything changes, there are many stages, where it all rearranges itself, divine nothingness, and appears in the simplest and most humorous things everywhere, like some secret riddling path, left by the fairies, to lose ourselves by and in losing ourselves, gain ourselves.
In losing self gain self
does anyone care?
I feel this is the wisdom in cannabis, I smoke a decent amount of cannabis, but I find it difficult to write about in any real meaningful way, words seem to fall short, and when they come, they only sort of vaguely hint at the true depth of the experience, if not confuse themselves and fall inward even. And thats the case when I get stoned recently, my mind goes on, not knowing what is happening, but my body feels the same things, when I tune into the true plane, the plane of peace and love, where all worlds are connected and all is there in truth and health, and italness, i understand, moreso, that the healing is a plant healing, and the spirit of the truth, ness, its a tool to cleanse the vision to see the infinite energy which we exist in, everything is a great sea and largely its self sacrifice which causes the woes and suffering of today, but returning to the present and there is healing there, the astral forms around me, I see them and they diffuse, like a shell falling away, a blossom opening,
a guniea pig with a great scepter and shakti going down my spine
becoming Flo, everything is illuminated with clouds of blissand deep in the bird flying free
looking down, the beauty of everything, the tao of people, the goodness of our interactions, the medicine wheel, all of it was real
a flower deep within a barrel
dude this life is crazy,
the lit bowl, flashing everywhere, beautiful walls, beautiful sounds
i love it here, i love what i do, they needed me,
we need eachother, all of us
and out there the world, the spirits, existence just that, beyond systems, just feelings and visions, and i like to think it served some divine purpose but there is ever higher and the logic in it surpasses even me
but maybe its just a matter of the location relative to the highest truth,
the ease of translation, or the dissonance, all is equal, om, verily
for the love which wrought it all is like music
and brings all in such a great love, which made it all
and we try, in language endless possibility,
we simply must allow, a thought like a flash
e
i
rh
and on and on just being as it
arun mo in tlaute no diviasy norbed
io
yona
arevi hey the moon and the morning that seems like night
true these are sacred times, these are
oh flo, you are beauty beyond beauty
this must be the truth
**** and cast off this restraint of others
for who are they, delusions, beyond this, what good or evil i know not
perhaps neither, but truth, which is love friend as all falls as it should
upon this holy ground, oh great mother where we see ye, oh Goddess,
God where we know ye
oh truth where we are you, passing the days quickly,
wailing and singing and being silent and still, all these forces on ones soul
to be together, to be a drop in the stream
winding this way and that knowing sky
knowing depths, feeling part of the pack
everything is my body, and I speak freely, the sun laughs brightly
and the gods an goddesses speak to me, how they will
for all is great illusion and costume, this fantasy, this life oh
and sorrow ends, blessed be all that makes this sacred thing
and may it live on long, let my conceptions be cast into nothing
because they only chain the true beauty
and such is the sin of poetry, foolish no conception of surrounding
maybe it is jealousy pushing in, but i have simply been placed here and waiting to die
everyone seems to be at a lack of words
and yet they continue, is it the listless moving of the fields
for we are the wheat and we are the shaff
and we are everything which will ever last
it doesnt matter it goes back the shamans again
clear from outwardly, what does it mean
no one ever even knew, it just came to be
why a feeling erupts, but we let it come just as well
so to meet its truth in the world, that great mirror
for koan and koan will come
living metaphors, simple things
all of it is alive, and is the truth
go this way or that, we find a spot and our own spirit knows
by means of itself, nature
silence, everything, ines
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A story
