one way to live

A linger,

The feeling of smoldering lava, caught up between the chest and throat. A tension of the wrist as i lay down my pen and stare at the paper before me. Long have i sought to express all that is within, always taken back by the mellow conversations in my head. "There is wisdom in the tummy", screamed the shaman, but i notice the world turning it's back, starving him and earth's mystical nutrients of sustenance.

There is something wrong here, this dream. This dream is confusing and stifling. Melancholic is the mood as i see all the faceless eyes of today. No helm but a ditch. A sad abyss of failed dreams and the deluge of conscripted slaves streaming out from under the school yard and class halls. So many own mirrors but do not see past the sexist nature of primal needs. No view to the inner desires just the plain exterior they try to mask and keep secret. All seeking shudders with another throughout the cold black nights.

I see journeyman lost. I watch them stray far from their sacred paths into suits and ties. The pursuit for madness in oppressed cubicles. Too many walls in this one big open space. How are you? They ask - seeking not for a truth but a sentiment of false trepidation. Stand next, shoulder to shoulder, backs to backs, millions of us. This is how we hug...

The inverted smile; even that is missing. This place, where anger is wrong, yet polite hypocritical smiles attracts praise far and wide. Keep your eye on your numbers on a screen whom only you can touch... they might take it away. The thought of death, which once was a thing of beauty, lives now in burned ashes and retirement homes. What do we do with the beings whom can teach the ancient wisdom's. Nothing, a discard for convenience and maybe, kept as obligated guilt. So few i have witness, lives with deep reverence for the aged mystics, the gate keepers for our release of this dream state.

What do we hold as sacred anymore, truly sacred? I am ashamed of my decisions and time i have spent. Another day beckons, but i know no different will be the outcome, as it is so... Hope lives in the eyes of the blind, and i see this darken room, as my eyes have adjusted to the malcontent and misery. And i see, for the second time i see....

says god...

Quote from Lao Tzu

It is rare, nowadays to find a simple paragraph that touches my deep hidden well of wisdom, and taunts it - uncovering the gem of light within.

A paragraph from Lao Tzu's Tao Teh Ching.

When all the world recognizes beauty as beauty, this in itself is ugliness. When all the world recognizes good as good, this in itself is evil. Indeed, the hidden and the manifest give birth to each other. Difficult and easy complement each other. High and low set measure to each other. Voice and sound harmonize each other. Back and front follow each other. Therefore, the Sage manages his affairs without ado, And spreads his teaching without talking. He denies nothing to the teeming things. He rears them, but lays no claim to them. He does his work, but sets no store by it. He accomplishes his task, but does not dwell upon it. And yet it is just because he does not dwell on it That nobody can ever take it away from him.

Melancholy, Indulgent, Lukewarm - End.

Melancholy, the phases i go through, the lives i have lived and the sediments of my past experiences, do not tie me together, but rather gives me a story to share. A simple person, looking for the sullen, the beautiful and true; besets me into my spiraling inquiry - something that never left me, my guiding light, my god.

Indulgent, the masses look outside themselves for answers to questions yet defined. I stake claim to only my own truths, many of which are still a massive blur. Sometimes this life bores me, and i get fickle about the material side of life. The figments of pleasures, my imagination draws forth from all my insecurities of many. Yet my soul's gravity pulls me back into myself, often intensely - leaving my sense of ego; faltering.

Lukewarm, emotionally i succumb to hedonistic points of view, firmly held imbalance, as the chemistry of feelings explode when i am alone. No one to oscillate to, no one to communicate with, no one to expel any whims from. I enjoy the solitude and i smile at my comfort and ease of my emptiness.

Sly, my mind plays visual and auditory symbolism's designed to confuse and distract. The hegemony of culture and society puts voices in my mind, telling me to follow suit. Of which i sense the immense struggle within, not of arrogance, but of a insistent grace - bellowing the tide of circuitry involved in this shell i call my head. A pedagogy still afraid and untamed, it brings me back to my dilemma.

End, is the sign of things to come. An exclusive privilege only given to the chosen few. The wisdom of knowing your end, can only force a transcendental state. Impossible to go back to the same consciousness prior. A fragrance that you will never encounter again, is the stench of your transmogrification.

In memory of an important man.
A love too young to realize,
I miss you.

eye - i - aye.

It's often too late to reconcile, myself from the history i have left, never in any regret for anything; No - "perhaps it could be different"; nor "if i did this, everything would have been better".

Now, everything is as it should be, and it has always been as it should have been.

I remember Steve Jobs, speaking clearly on aging and being older; that one connects the dots of the seemingly in-congruent choices, radical osmosis of youthful exuberance, of near death experiences and most importantly - really stupid financial decisions. All of which accumulates and is the sum of your present perfect situation.

Looking back at my insignificant time here on earth (26 years is really a short timeline in the grand scheme of the universe) i am no different from when i started this adventure, i still cry, poop and eat... But everything else is different. I think it was Heidegger who said the eyes are the window of a Man's soul, i don't know if that is true, but when i look into the eyes of the many people I've had the privilege of coming into contact with, i see a brightness, even the dark ones who live in romantic tragedy. They all have that same glow, just like the day they were born.

People intrigue me, they always have. I remember when i was a child, i used to just sit in silence and watch people. I didn't say a word to anyone, i would just look at them. That unnerved a lot of the adults and I always wondered why. The call to question existence and everything in it, took over my life when i was in secondary school, and that kinda got me in immense trouble with the teachers. I remember losing interest in school altogether by the time i took my O'levels. I just couldn't buy the notion that numbers on a certificate, would dictate my life's direction. It seemed stupid at the time, and really,.... it still does.

A measure of a man lives is in his ability to create, not in his ability to regurgitate information. That shaped how i would lead my life. Of course i was not able to comprehend life then as i do now, but i made choices that were fascinating and enriching to me, even if it got me into trouble in this society i live in. The trouble, simply fueled my passion to philosophize further and dwell into spaces my peers never touch nor knew about.

Outcast and misunderstood, i loved my journey of solitude; the days i spent in parks by myself, not going home, but sleeping under trees were the happiest days i can remember. The vast amount of time spent on thinking and writing, were invaluable. Looking back, I could have got a job, done more school work, made more money, but spending time being a hobo taught me more, then any class or course.

Now, life is clear, my direction is paved and my visions are slowly but surely crystallizing. I've stepped on toes, broke countless promises and disappointed too many people, in this journey, and i know that hampered many things, and for that i am sorry. Cause the fear of expressing my wisdom, and relying on self will were battles i lost daily. The repercussions of which are still echoing in my life of which i embrace, surrendering to karma.

But today, i experienced the uncanny sensation of looking at my own eyes, and seeing for the first time, a child. Observing him, and a-washed of feelings of being under my favourite tree, notepad in hand, and a smile on my face. Today i died, as i will tomorrow, and the day after. No different from the day i started to the day i end.

It's all good.

:)

Love is the vacuumed spaces in between.

Imagine a scene, between two misfits, in this spinning world, holding on to each other. Not knowing when to pull away, or if to come together. An arcane glimpse into the others mystic moments, tied only by a mind - singular, but encapsulating. No shadows of malcontent nor the majestic arrogance of the proud ego. Simple and weightless they move together in the direction of their souls. Intertwined like the photons in vacuumed space, where no sound exist only a bold feeling.

The scene plays infinitely like a steeple on the church on temple mount. Hanging, over the land below, worshiping the sun, the feather and the holding sprites. An eternity absolved in a blink of an eye. The link breaks between them, and what is left is; sky.

Everything else, slips into itself, in a vortex of rainbows - cascading and ascending it ends.

This is how love was born.
Naked and alone.
But beautiful.

Gaia sleeps in my room.

Nature...

Wonderful is, the fallen leaves ellipse of her potted clay gray skin. I stare longingly into the green, on the edge of her yellow captured wing, of; plant named werewolf. She sleeps with the song of release, in her covered mildewed pillow. I cover my hands over her gentle silk, and feel for the first time, it's texture. Cold, akin to leathery skin i hold, in my being.

It speaks, without words as her stem moves me callously towards a gentle peace. I sense its whispers, calling out Prometheus, Prometheus, Prometheus. I shudder as she weeps into the cold dry night. Nothing i can do, as she sleeps and dreams of the wilderness, playing amongst the wolves - as i catch fish in the humming stream.

Alike ulcer the god; she feeds from me, as i let my brow drip into her bowl of dissolute, salty Garth. What is left is the false Jesuit second son, righteous and magnified ab-solvent it takes all nourishment's from, moving the soul, placid with zen waters - the self, loses the self as it grows without accomplishment.

Hurried into a hove, a concave shaped misspent hove. Cylindrical like a symphony frozen at it's crescendo, the architecture exemplifies nonchalance and stuttering ambiguity. All within a smog of aura, choking me into spasms of heavy coughs. A fractal seed, drawing me into it's surrounding perceived emptiness.

Regression hits me, with dirt particles at my precipice of thought. Hypnotized and in a stasis, i plough through this egoless, energy - holarchy; bringing me to the beautiful sky in my mind, where nothing exist through an existence filled with past memories. Hard is it to smile and find that inner label of nirvanic joy. I cringe as she blooms. Her flowers seed me, flagrantly in my entropy. I burst inwardly, the implosion berates me further into nothingness.

I stand still.

She the plant, the flower, the soil, the seed, the colour, the smell, the essence, the thought, the reflection, is perfectly whole and dear. I cherish my plant. For she is werewolf, and i am the sun. Now and forever, today and tomorrow, the chain and the ball, we dance - till the end and beyond. Sweet and magnificent, she kills me with esteem joy... and i love her for it.

Personal Fumigation.

Is this life really a mystery?

This new bubble of unfolding consciousness, imbued upon this makeshift matter, brings a syncretic conundrum. "My Organic form, versus my capacity to weave life's intrinsic energy flow". I dwell too much on the innate spirituality, mind scopes of philosophical epistemology's and i have seemed to miss my sensuous motion of my physicality. I speak truth when i say, i don't feel much of anything anymore...

In retrospect, i am moving towards a new "numb", a feeling i have yet to fully experience. It is interesting to observe myself in the daily struggles and postulations from my Oedipus complex... (damn you Freud!) Hitting the books again is a beautiful ugly, from Sartre to Heidegger back to the tenets of the Integral. My mind is consumed with new array of patterns, and this cognitive kaleidoscope feels like an acid/LSD cocktail.

Not a wisdom found, but through the nihilistic approach, everything simplifies, deconstructs and brings a new wonder. Looking at my life in general, nothing has changed yet everything has... I am not hungry for anything anymore, (maybe plants) but i feel i have stopped growing and have hit a plateau. The walls are higher this time and i can't see where it ends. I have observed it, walked the length of it and sat in hope of a bulldozer tearing a hole...

The walls are nothing but stone, hard and gray. I feel it's callous cold and i wonder out loud. "where am i?" I have explore the depths of my mind, sat in meditations for hours on end and the summit of the stone face leads me back to my physical form. Seeking to know where, my root Chakra, my Muladhara, the grounded-ness of my set organic make up is currently at, leaves me with only one conclusion.... i don't really fucking know.

I have never really cared, for my physical form. This supposedly temple of mine has been abused, and left decrepit. So maybe to climb the wall is to tend and garden this body of mine. A journey i have put aside and left for other pursuits. I am not lazy, i just didn't see the point. Managing the flow, of life's beautiful landscape is now a physical journey. *sigh* I don't have that youthful passionate verve to rebel and lay waste to the dogmatic rituals many aspire to. This body is tired, so i will bring a new understanding for it's limits just because i can, not because it makes absolute sense nor it's benefits enticing me with new dimensions of awareness.

I miss my Minerva, the epoch of artistic endeavours only known to those who find solace in the temple they own and carry. I knew that once... a long time ago. I seek that ladder,to climb this wall. My next stage of evolution is physical, and a word of warning to you my "ego"... Bugger off and let me do what i will.