The Perfection of Peace

The perfection of the process of living is so sublime we’re constantly in danger of underestimating its nature. We go through our trials the best we can and put off our analysis till later. But that time never comes, because we’re beset by everything under the sun and our minds are constantly in play regretting the past and ignoring the day. If we’re not thinking about then, we’re thinking about tomorrow, if we don’t embrace Zen, we choose to embrace sorrow. The Buddha said that suffering is guaranteed when desire becomes need and the scions of sin are freed to wreak havoc indeed. We’re not even clear enough to plead with ourselves, to delve beneath the momentary thoughts, to seek the Truth beneath the things that we’ve sought. And continue to seek, thus the course of our lives becomes more and more bleak. We continue to turn the other cheek tweaking aspects of self till our egos then swell and the illusion becomes complete. Jesus was in tune with Eastern runes, his words of wisdom were hewn from the edifice attuned to the ultimate Divinity. He was one expression of the spiritual Trinity encompassing the expanse of the All presented to sinners in thrall to what in effect amounts to the rejection of Sects, the various Cults that misappropriate vital energy creating synergy that siphons the Soul that diverts our true goals that energetically feeds Monsters and Vampires and Ghosts, doses of Christmas’s future, the remedy a spiritual suture that closes the wound bringing emotions in tune silencing minds that won’t still allowing space for good will. It all comes down to taking the time to silence the mind. That’s it in a nutshell, the Bells of Clarity can only ring if we can hear them. The Heavenly Chorus can only sing if we listen. Glistening Pearls of Wisdom glint in the gloaming, bubbling like froth foaming and bursting on the shores of the sea, each droplet a Worldling, each atom within hurdling through infinite voids, each potentiality employed in the manifestation of the All. Sadly to say, we make the choice to stall. We make the choice to fall. And that is all as it should be. Becoming more aware of the moment we notice the magic, we notice the tragic often leads to more blessings, the depressing and distressing expressing our progression. Mind becomes clear as compression becomes dear as mental control leads to peace recognizable as cheer. It’s not, really, it’s no state of Being it is being in between when your slate’s become clear. Peace becomes the norm and you no longer react to every storm, you realize thunder and lightning are good now that the storm within is understood. And, eventually, you begin to notice the moments again. Like we did when we were kids. The beauty of breath. The good will that kindness foments. The inevitability of death. The Perfection of Peace and the onset of emotional and spiritual surcease. This is the goal that was ours from the start. We paid the heavy price of life so that wisdom might impart itself unto us in the meantime. This is the whole reason we left the Divine. Not so sublime, once you remember what to do. The question then becomes, can you?

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The Detritus of the Day

Thought fails to encompass
the entirety of Being

Words and phrases running
endlessly

Through minds awash in the
detritus of the day

Ruminations of mundane happenings
cycling without cease

Disrupting the Now with impressions
of yesterday and tomorrow’s imaginings

Fantasy becomes reality when thoughts
run amok

What is remembered becomes history
what is hoped for or feared the future

When neither is relevant to the magic
of the moment

We lose the precious gift of Being and Presence
to hopes and fears unrealized.

The Circumvention of Fate

Desperation is in the air. Can you feel it?

It’s in that thousand yard stare you see sometimes, walking down the streets, gaze fixated mostly upon your own feet but looking up sometime, catching a glimpse of gazes, phases of mental gone medieval, often wild and feral, telescopic scopes above a cocked gun barrel, burning above tightened and frozen lips.

A sublime trip into the mind of the divine. You can see it in the eyes of many lost and bewildered members of the human tribe, hearts tendered upon alters of greed, frozen screaming, lost in the tribulations of their own half-unconscious but transcendent need. Almost everybody you pass is ass out, minds elsewhere, worrying about cash, about the job, about making ends meet. It’s that mad dash into the future we’re on, trying to appear strong while inside we’re quaking and outside we’re shaking, more or less, tested to the extreme, worry and regret struggling in the middle of life’s turbulent stream.

Time seems to be passing way too quickly, it’s sickly. Choices being made that we regret almost instantly, surrounded by temptation we forgo the mandatory oblations, giving in way too freely, it’s a mess. Really, it’s a damn shame, tested, like Cain, caught slaying brother Abel we swang, private parts in the wind, buffeted about by our own sins, looking around for someplace to hide, but we can’t pretend, there’s no solace from the wrath of God’s eyes, in the end.

But, we try. Finding those hidden corners in our minds, caught out, we gesticulate wildly, babbling like some kind of hideous street mime. Lies attempt to win the day as we play the game of life, causing strife, as if this is the only way to be, as if this is the only way to see through the illusions, trying not to fall, catching yet another contusion on the brain, half-lame we stumble through the mist of half-forgotten crimes, committed to do the time of life on earth, forgetting that we’re really here to experience a rebirth, of spirit, of soul, the goal almost beyond grasp, the sacred asp of the ancients the last gasp of mortality slipping from lips agape, awed by the utter immensity of Creation’s fell maw. A truly unenviable state.

And, by the way, maw means jaws for the uninitiated, open wide, our hearts pounding inside, words not accompanying intentions, our misguided actions necessitating the Circumvention of Fate, the intervention of a higher state of being, seeing beyond the mundane, the limited visual capacity of the temporarily insane. How inane is that? Doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result, all the while pretending to be an adult.

And so it goes. And so we grow, deep in the throes of potentiality, creating reality with every breath, evolving as spirits of light with every test, committed until death.

That desperation that you see? It’s really a call to action for you and me. We are indeed our brothers and sisters keepers, street-wise sweepers of the detritus of life, we clean up our acts to move higher. Going through the dark night of the soul, hearts catching afire, becoming the phoenix of the dark morning’s dawn, harbingers of spiritual desire, becoming the angel that lost souls count on. Exemplifying the higher aspects of consciousness, forgoing the prideful excesses of pompousness. Yes, that’s the answer to it all.

The answer to our fateful and often inevitable fall.

Choose differently. Live gently, being kind to yourself. Release the pain and gain the clarity of peace, find your center and witness the turbulence and drama cease.

It is indeed possible. A choice to be made like any other, the choice to overcome any obstacle, to find the solution in the soluble, that which dissipates in nature’s flow, synchronicitous instances of life’s journey that cause us all to grow.

So there you go.

Choose wisely, and slow your roll.

Solar Night

The light of the day fills me.
Spills out from me.
Huddles formless,
luminescent, pools from me.
Thrills trill out for me,
celestial melodies still me,
cold laughter
kills me.

Solar brilliance seals me,
knowledge hidden away
heals me,
wisdom reveals me,
all else passes brightly,
as the day.

Midnight finds me blindly
delving deep beneath
the skin
in sin, dark pleasures
shine like seas, distantly
beckoning need
within.

Without the doubt
confounds me,
knowledge of Self
astounds me
bounds me,
crowned in glory
life sounds me out,
bones mired in stone
compound me.