The Sum

You ever stop to think about the fact that every compounded moment beginning with the big bang deposition of matter from zero-point to quarks and atoms, quasars and nebulae, time dilation and wormholes has brought creation barreling up an evolutionary spiral culminating in every star, comet and planetary body including your body right here, right now.

That you are the result of untold infinities of potentialities manifest, that of all possible people in all possible worlds you are here, in this space, in this moment living a life connected to other beings on the same journey, coalesced in time from the dust of ancient stars, the bones of gaseous gods, the flesh of transcendent gnosis.

That you are the sum of all creation. That your spouse is. Your children. Your neighbor down the hall. The street. Your pastor. Your grocer, your secretary and your parol officer, your lover and your dog.

That all that is, is you, is me, is us, is all that is.

And that there is no contradiction in that.
That paradox is life. Is pain and joy, heartache and happiness. Good luck and bad, sunshine and rain. The dark and the light take turns running the world, running our lives, running creation manifest. The yin and yang of existence is a cosmic dance, same partner, same time, same place. Over and over we twirl across the space of stars skipping and pirouetting across galaxies and universes, doing the cosmic dance, leaping laughter bouncing, bounding like gas giants booming through dimensions echoing fractals of intention higher through the spirals of metaversal intersection.

I know it all sounds obscure and, perhaps, a bit fanciful. But think about it for a minute. The only reason for being is Being itself. The only reason for seeing is Sight. Senses reveal the co-creation to itself as we bear witness to life. Acknowledging existence with conscious presence, being the Creators eyes. Living and learning, guided through paradox in faltering fits and starts, failures and successes. The vale of tears, right? The forest of fears undreamt of terrors untapped of horrors unreleased to prey upon your dreams and lives, giving rise to the opportunity for rebirth.

You see, there is the key. The secret…not so much. Masks obscure clear vision, foment separation and suffering. Obliterate clarity, awaken insanity, otherwise known as the egoic delusion. Believing the mask is the face, deluded bags of flesh do the dance macabre, skeletons clacking across the dusty floors of a deserted saloon in the midst of nowhere, nowhen.

Take off your mask. Or not. The very act of hearing these words loosens it, just a bit. As attention is drawn to its tricks. The real boss lies beneath the franctic thoughts, the fearful lies. The silent awareness that you can just sense….there. Right there. Dispassionately observing that you you think you are in every second cascading you with you as you are bombarded with you and you see you in every you you see in your mind. You. Youyouyou.

There! Did you see it?

Me too.

Shamans and gurus can tell you all about it. Priests, pastors and prophets know what’s up. So do you. The stars and numbers do too. And that, my friends, brings us right back round again to the beginning. That big bang of becoming that became. All of it. Indescribable. Ineffable. Nameless. Boundless.

You see what I’m saying?

Just think about it.

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Lost. 93,000,000 Miles from the Sun ~ II

As we walk, his voice echoes in my ears and the sun-washed hall grows brighter in syncopation.

“This planet, adrift in space, dances in the stately process of creation alongside a cohort of 12 sisters and brothers wooing Sol, the source of life, star of your destiny. One star among many; one solar system among innumerable solar systems, one galaxy within the macro-constellation of over 125 billion galaxies, one universe within the greater Omniverse.”

The little man stops for a moment and removes his gray bowler, scratching his shining, black head. He peers up at me suspiciously as if I were a stranger, which, I remind myself, I am. Then he continues.

“Physically speaking, you are stardust, born of Sol with the breath of life infused within flesh. Your body is imprinted at conception with electromagnetic patterns that determine individual and group behavior; Sol is the beginning of the end and back again. Your flesh is one with all flesh, one with earth, water, fire and air. There is no ‘they’ or ‘it’ at the level of quarks and mesons. All is one. Dark matter is the fabric of creation, its aspects differentiated by vibration alone.

He rubs the black skin on the back of his hand with a stubby finger. At the same time, your body seeks to experience the moment with every breath. It seeks to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh and to subdue your soul, obscuring the memory of who you really are. As a result, you are torn, your intentions misled.”

At some point during his lecture, the building disappears. The shiny marble remains beneath our feet but the walls and halls vanish, to be replaced by a portentous, glowing mist. I am unconcerned by this transformation and continue to pace the strange, little man. Nothing else is important. He walks silently, his hands clasped. His aura is peaceful but my agitation is too immediate to contain.

“Who are you? Why are you helping me?”

“It is enough for you to know what I have already told you. I am here to help you find yourself; to help you remember who and what you are. Clear your mind of small matters. You must concentrate upon the journey to come.”

“But do you have a name? Surely you possess a name.”

He sighs theatrically. “Can you explain your meaningless preoccupation with definitions? With defining the indefinable, naming the unnamable? How does one of limited understanding know the wind? Or how to capture the essence and purity of a star with a syllable or two? What about the beauty of a moment or the joyful exuberance of a summer’s storm? Or how to encompass a reality as awesome as eternity’s cyclic procession? It cannot be done. Without meaning, naming alone is inadequate. ”

He glowers for a moment more then relents. “If you must call me something, call me Aum. And listen to these words that I speak. Words of power.”

I nod dutifully and bend my ear to him.

“It must be emphasized that all things are connected. The web of life spans all existence, finds purchase in the most inhospitable of terrains. Life upon this planet, within this solar system, galaxy and universe is tied to life elsewhere. The Omniverse prefers holism to segregation on a grand scale. In order to truly find yourself, to finally remember who you are and what your purpose is, you must intuit the reality of these words; you must investigate for yourself. You must be decisive. There is no space allocated for meandering thoughts. Clear intentions are required.”

Accordingly, there is no hesitation on my part. “Lets begin.”

Black, star-tossed space extends above. There are mountains all around us. We straddle weighty stone powdered by the dust of ages that puffs in gentle whirls around our feet and I shift and ogle in wonder. The horizon rises impossibly high and distant, affirming my realization that we are no longer upon the Earth. This planet is larger by far, ancient and sad. Somehow, I know that she is dead. The fire that burns within, extinguished.

Cresting the craggy peaks, gargantuan machines work, chugging, humming and belching furiously. The massive, interlinked construct obscures the entire northern horizon. It is impossible to determine its function from this distance but I try anyway. There are processors, factories and what look to be dormitories, malls and city complexes, bustling with activity. Dense, noxious smog huddled jealously about the structures corrode their exteriors. High overhead, small shapes flit between the gleaming towers and I realize that they are ships. The foundations of the megalopolis are stained a sooty black and the carcasses of rusting, metal machinery languish in the shadows.

Dazzled, I turn my eyes from the spectacle to find Aum forming miniature cyclones out of dust. With subtle twirls of his fingers and silent spells, three, five, then nine rise from the ashes as others continue to form, undulating gently. I ask him again: “Where are we? Why are we here?”

Impatiently, he waves my question off. “Have you found yourself yet?”

I think for a moment then shake my head. His attention remains focused upon the twisters as they skip across the rock but he rises briskly as he answers. “Then we have not yet reached our destination. Come. Let us walk further.”
It is then that I notice that the marble path is still beneath our feet and we stroll leisurely, trailing a cohort of thirteen miniature cyclones as they forge the way ahead.

“We must speak of intentions. And purposes. Do not let me forget to speak of purposes. ”

I assure him that I won’t let him forget.

“Intentions can be your worst enemy if formed upon false premises. Often they begin as subtle insinuations; placed in the path of your spirit by your ego like so many little mines, set to go off when their detonators are triggered. This is how you are sabotaged from within. The flesh is programmed for servitude but, for most blessed with physical bodies, ends up becoming the master. How is this done, you ask? ”

I did not ask, but I try to appear more attentive.

“By the misdirection of intention. The ego masked as self aggregates the functions of the body. This leads inevitably to physical, emotional and spiritual sickness, then death. Lacking the power to direct or change behavior, the ego manufactures intentions that lure the body, intellect and spirit along the path of its choosing. Eventually, all must arrive at the crossroads. Do you understand?”

“I think so, I allow, “but what of the world we just visited? Surely it is an example of the triumph of the rational mind! Intelligent beings envisioned it and created it through the harnessing of technology and the forces of nature.”

“That is true . But that world is dead, its inhabitants devoid of compassion and slave to that very same technology they once controlled. As a consequence of their ignorance, nature itself turned against them. Their greed resulted in the total consumption of their planet’s biosphere. Do you see the lesson in this tragedy?”

I nod but do not respond. The marble path has twisted into the sky at some point along our journey and in the space of timelessness I recollect vague impressions of starbursts, super novas and black holes lurking, evoking sublime delight as the implications of our fateful sojourn gestate within my mind. I have no idea how much time has passed, but the distance we have traveled appears to be vast.

“Where are we now?” I ask.

“Have you found yourself yet?” He counters.

I dodge a twisting vine ambling past, intent upon its destination. The sky is suddenly adrift with vegetation: purple, green and a deep, midnight blue flora predominating. There is no soil, or ground. Only dense cloudbanks and rustling forests of kelp-like trees that whisper in the moist, hyper-oxygenated atmosphere.

“No. Where are we?” I repeat.

“We are in a nebula, ” Aum explains, “an oxygen bubble billions of miles in diameter within which entropy has blossomed. Life finds purchase in the most inhospitable of terrains.”

The marble path sweeps through the radiant sky, twisting and looping between billowing, gaseous formations, diving into the greenery and emerging on the other side to rise again into the cloudy distance. The thirteen cyclones continue to dance into the future, drawing us forward in their wake. Crystalline reptiles bloated by gaseous air-pouches float upon the currents, blown by anal eruptions of flatulent energy, trailed by crackling wisps of fire.

I laugh despite myself and am surprised to be joined by Aum.

“What are these creatures? Are they intelligent? They certainly are funny.”

“No funnier than you and your misguided intentions. Humor derives from judgments that require introspection as well as empathy. Right now, you are sorely lacking in both. I was laughing at you, not them.”

He eyes me smugly. “These beings know exactly who and what they are. They are not lost at all. Can you say the same? Do you understand that they possess the knowledge of self? Can you feel the profound peace in their lives?”

I can. They interact harmoniously, their voices rising and falling in what is clearly measured speech. I sense their connection, one to the other, as something deep and pervasive, allowing no space for individuality or deception. There are no artifacts to be seen, nor do these beings seem to indulge in self-centered pastimes. But I am not satisfied. Rather, I am disturbed and lash out.

“Why did you bring me here? What lesson am I supposed to take from this encounter? Surely you do not believe that the lifestyle of these aliens is transferable? These beings live idyllic lives, with all of their needs met by their environment. There appears to be no over-crowding, no wars or discontent of any kind. In no way does this situation approximate that of the Earth.”

Aum does not respond and I stalk the marble path in a swirl of emotions, barely acknowledging the splendor of the extra-terrestrial garden. I feel remorse, but do not act to clear my conscience. Instead, I dwell upon my outburst and realize that my attempt to emotionally manipulate the little man has resulted in the opposite of my intentions. I have moved only myself.

Lost. Part I

Lost. Part II

Lost. Part III

Witch Woman

Which witch wails
writhing beneath
the full moon
banshee calls
sending souls
shivering
undulating want
wafting between
worlds
her witchy bitchy
soul shivering
vibrating
between love and
lust

calling me
torn by desire and
destruction
open minds
leave me breathless
tested by
torment and tease
skin shifting
between
black, brown, yellow
red and
white
faces morphing
melding into one
sensual concerto
of magical moods
mementos
of past lives

Soft wet centers
seeping brew
a witch’s vital stew
of sexual sin
washing over me
baptizing me
in a cascade of
the Moon’s light
love shining down
upon glades of
night’s secret
center
a soul undone
by a moment’s
whimsical want
a fatal song
unsung
the chords of
her voice
an infinite and
everlasting
taunt.

The Space of my Contentedness

Using infrared images from NASA's Spitzer Spac...

Image via Wikipedia

The Space of my Contentedness blesses me.
Clarity of thought tests me.
Decisive Intent directs me.
Multifarious designs correct me.

Consciousness transcends. Being aware of choice makes life right. Right not opposed to wrong, just different; no better, no worse. Realizing that decisions made are thoughts manifest brings intent to the surface of a boiling cauldron of possibility.

One Earth, one life.
Entangled quanta streaming thru eternity to infinity.
Desperate emotions struggle.
Souls seared by life’s flames cry tears of hot mercury.

There is no love like a new love. Old loves languish. Making each moment new goads life into new paths, new decisions, renewed destiny. There is no love like an old love. New loves languish. Love exists. Eternal. Infinite.

There is nothing new under the sun. No words spoken in turn resist order divided by meaning squared. The sum of all equations equals everything and nothing both.

Collisions create anew, order birthed from chaos.
A gentle kiss is an affirmation of G-d.
Broken dreams defer judgment.
Art installed by soul’s desire soars.

Awaken wonder to life past desire. Subtle colorations of love meld seamlessly with hate. Dreams merge reality with fantasy, tandem lives superimposed, divided by night and day. Bringing joy into play, souls rise.

Happiness confirms pain’s necessity to me.

Silence echoes within me.
Lies of infinite sorrow pass through me.
Joy unbound unbinds me.

The Earth and the Sky

Cloud-to-cloud lightning, Victoria, Australia

Image via Wikipedia

Many, many moons ago the Earth arose from her bed to meet her lover, the Sky.

The occasion of their date followed the auspicious rising of perfection in theSouth; a congregation of starry scenarios,in celebration of the upcoming celestialserenade.

Said scenario being the manifestation ofVenus rising, positioned between Mercuryand the Earths bed, scattered generouslywith lilac leaves and subtle sprays ofocean lily, dusted lightly by the tearsof the Angelic Hosts.

They agreed to rendezvous in theconstellation of Orion, where he promptlypresented her with a bouquet ofsupernovas; three, frosted cumulonimbusnebulae and a clutch of lightning boltsto help alleviate her backaches.

The Earth reciprocated by smiling daintily,opening an intimate chasm deep intoher interior and revealing her molten,nickel iron core, the brilliance of whichlit the Sky with an eternity ofelectromagnetic eminences.

Gold and silver highlights reflected hersmile upon his broad expanse, and he feltthe blue of his somber façade fading toblack, as evening fell.

Reinvigorated immeasurably, the Earthreturned to her garden, plying broadswathes of fertile till with raw ores andprecious metals, intent upon sowing herwild oats; thusly, she was reborn.

The Sky extended his girth across theentirety of eternity, his febrileimagination envisioning a perfection ofrussets and golds: highlighted sunscapesof lavender and the particulate remnantsof long-suffering volcanic outbursts,representative of important decisionsmade in haste.

That night was one of passionateremembrances as the Sky and Earthjoined, remaking Creation from Beginningto End: organic entities contemplatedconception, daring birth in search ofmacroversal meaning.

The fruit of their union was Life, born tobear witness to the perfection of MotherEarth and Father Sky.