Archive for the ‘the zen of neo-christian taoism’ Category

Unfocused and Unbound, staring, not seeing.

There is a distant space that grabs at my attention, pulling my sight towards it; through my Eyes my Soul flows. Out, flying Out to meet my vision’s gravity, pulled out of Here and Now drawn to invisibility.
My Eyes are magnetisized. Seeing; traveling so far out that I return through the back of my head. Always it is quicker to retrace the light years than pass through my mind. Inside is more distance than all of Outerspace, Innerspace is far more of a vacuum. So much empty area; floating, gently colliding and rebounding.
A dark maze with but one end: down the rabbit hole to the fields by the river Illeism to the mountains against the stars, the land of frost and forest to the tip top where the still lake is a silent mirror. Up here there is no wind, up here the only sound is the sound you bring with you. Shout and the lake shatters the stars and you fall up to meet the broken pieces of the sky to fall back again to a plain surrounded by cliff walls. You awake to where you were all along, the Here and Now, only you have been absent, on a journey light years away to the edge of the universe where it bends back on itself and you ended up lost in your own mind and only just now retraced your steps.


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Don’t really have anything to say, nothing meaningful. I just feel the need to write, to express in some way. The wind is gale force outside my window. It blows the world before it. It carries what is here far away and brings what was far, near. I am like this wind. I drift and carry with me all that I brought from the places I have been. I have left pieces of me in these far of places and brought new pieces with me. A patchwork man, a whole man made of small pieces. Fragments and pieces glued together with love and friendship, regret and loss, with all the things that make life what it is. I am a plaid man, a patchwork quilt of love and loss, of rage and regret, of family and friends; of memory, of experience. I am melancholy as I stand yet again at a crossroads and ask the same questions as before: Left? Or right? Only this time I think neither. I will walk straight, and let the pieces fall where they will. Or rather I will take the pieces with me as the wind does, gather new pieces and leave other pieces behind, as the wind does.

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Man is an exaltation of himself.

At least that is what he should be, what he is… that is something altogether different. What is and what should be are two complete and separate beings. The IDEAL, what we have been taught to revere, to put up on a pedestal and never attain will never be attained. For the very reason which I have just described. It was put out of reach, out of attainability by the fear of the great, by the squirming mass which hates greatness because it reveals its smallness.

We are a foolish race because we constantly fool ourselves into believing the least of ourselves. We apologize for and retreat from our own greatness. And the sad thing, the horrible commentary of society is that we love it. We love being brought low, being debased.

I have lived two roads, two paths. I have travelled in the way of the ‘righteous man’ I have wandered the paths of ‘iniquity’ and everywhere Man is the same. Full of fear. We deny ourselves. We revel in the small, in the mean, in the disgusting. In places of spiritual worship across the world Men compare trial and tribulations, they wear smallness as a badge of accomplishment. In the land of the low, of the unwashed, Men laugh at their dirtiness at their ineffectualness and brag about how this elevates them above the greater man because they belong to an imaginary tapioca called “The Common Man”.

I now have a name for that which I have hated in people for the longest time. I at one point called it selfishness. Foolishly I believed the primping and preening and pretending were selfish. I was wrong. It is selflessness; it is subservience to another, one who you don’t even know, can’t even see: the faceless nameless mass.

We are a great creation, a wonderful being yet we constantly debase ourselves by committing the ultimate treason to self: the abdication of self. There is a quote from a movie I saw, a quote which I held on to because of the haunting quality of what it entailed. “You have lost your muchness.” Humanity has lost its muchness. It’s drive for greatness has become the quest for the “greater good”; it’s search for divinity has become an endless circle of prayers and obeisance to a man on raised platform or placed on cross. To search for yourself in the reflection of the eyes of others is to surrender yourself to the mass. Imagine the mass as a seething pile of maggots tearing at the exposed flesh of the world reducing it all to bloody pulp, to undistinguished piles of sameness. There is no Muchness in Sameness. There is only the ‘norm’ and those who do not belong.

I want my Muchness back.

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Lost in memories you wonder why.

I do not. It is not for me these ponderings on past lives.

I do not question, it is for me merely to contend or to concede

If I must contend I will do so till my cause is won or I am beaten

I will be ruthless in my campaigns, pitiless in my press; if I am to carry the day I will do so without remorse.

I am not soft, my heart is not week, my soul is not lacking.



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I walked along the beach tonight, that defining edge between two worlds. Instead of feeling dwarfed by the hugeness of the ocean or the vastness of space with its myriad of stars which I could not name, instead of being made small by all this enormity, I felt like a giant, a colossus.

I felt the power of God and was not afraid for it was the same power he had given us, give to Man.

I am Man and Man has conquered both the sea and the land and one day space too will fall under our husbandry. And even if I had made a single misstep and fell to the currents and the larger predators of the sea Man would still prevail. I did not feel small, as I suppose I should have, instead I laughed, not in the face of God but with Him

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The bzz-bzz of the night; the crystal quality of hum from fans energized by the burning of long dead ancestors; empty bottle, bitter fluid of mystic properties; one light, achingly bright.  These things move around me, above me, through me.
The power of creation, the spark which runs our daily lives, it wakes me. It wakes me with its incessantly demanding yet systematic ring.
Pounding clutter-stomp of feet, voices from an empty, empowered box, scuffle-stomp, the clink of a new bottle opened.
This is my life and night. Tonight is quiet; well down here, under the laughter of the box, the stomp of restless feet, friends, it is quiet.
Down here it’s the bzz-bzz of the night and the accompanying hum of my fan. Down here is my surcease, my comfort and my smile. This empty bottle mocks me. It laughs and I grin. “Soon”, I say, “Soon I will rejoin the zoo that is upstairs.”
But right now I enjoy the repartee I have cultivated with my buzzing and humming companions.

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There was once a man who said,
“a man once said”
and that is what he said.

So then I say, a man once said; “You’re crazy. You know that don’t you?” A man once said, “I’m proud of you son.” and yet another man once said; “Your destined for great things.” and another, “You need to figure out your life, what you want to do with it; where to point it. You’re a good kid but your lost.” And once a man even said, “You are under arrest.” Then again one said “Good job.” and handed over a beer.
And I said, “There is this life before me, I don’t plan on dieing, so let’s go. There is a horizon and another valley after the next mountain, there is music and laughter and friends to be had and I’ll not waste my time living up to what a man once said. So let’s go.” A man once said that life was a precious gift and another responded by saying it was all pointless, “…all is dross.”
There is a story of what was said once, the first word to mankind, “live.” So then I shall.

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