I Will Re-EnteR: The Duties of Love

"Of all the hexagrams, 29 is one of my favourites...Here’s what I read there: “The name of this hexagram is formed by two characters: Xi + Kan. Xi figuratively shows the situation of the little bird, still in the nest, but pushed by its mother to leave the nest into the void, because it has to discover the art of flying, or how to be carried by this void. This image is used to express the idea of ‘learning by repeating’. Kan figuratively expresses the idea of a place where solid ground disappears under our feet, thus provoking a sudden sense of fear and anxiety. Xi & Kan together show that when vertigo paralyses, it is by action we have to react. Daring to advance, that’s the tool to prevent inertion to take over. When we doubt our possibilities, we can discover, buried deep down in ourselves, unsuspected possibilities when we dare to engage.” And he continues with a beautiful translation of “Movement brings honour”: ‘Agir amène à se surpasser’ or: ‘To act leads to surpass oneself’. Translating always is a kind of interpretation of course, but Javary & Faure’s view on 29 for me was an eye opener and helped a lot. In a way the image of this little bird appealed to me, because it overcomes the fear of flying simply by suddenly discovering it was its reason of being, it was printed in its DNA. Our deepest fears sometimes lead the way to discover/uncover our reason of being, that which makes us unique."

Hexagram 29 of the I Ching: Omens that appear insurmountable. Appear. But are not so. I realize my greatest fears, which are of mine, the tribes, the collective, both overlapping and distinct, are the keys to my greatest strengths.

I think of my shadow side. Of my alternate persona, the one I speak quietly of or none at all. But who speaks loudly; sometimes I can see this raucous demon hold others who believe themselves light. I am entering the chasm, we All are. I really do not know if I can fly, my fears swell up inside my hollowed breast like an inverted and dark sea. But deep down, beyond the muck, I can fly, I do fly.

I am being taught by all these different energies around me what I need to learn in the Now. So that, if I pay attention, if I listen, I can hear the whisper of wings that are built and building 'round me and upon me. I am beginning to realize that fear is a choice, insomuch that once it is felt it can be decided upon whether to repeat or re-instigate the fear. Water upon water, a repetitive entering into the dark chasm; do I want to embrace my demons again and again? Is this healthy fear--fear that I feel, act upon, push through, all under the current of conscientiousness?

This is the light of the New Aeon, the dark side of the moon's beams, where the darkest parts will now be repetitively exposed. And I have thematically been paralyzed by fear: of falling in love, of rejection, of failure, of disappointment, of debauchery... .A. 
                   And I must act now in the face of my gouged and wound fears. For the sake of me, the individual, and for the sake of the tribe and of the collective. If anything, I realize it is my duty as my own god, as a small blue god amongst many others. I was gifted the wondrous experience of this existence, I was bestowed the awe-inducing brilliance of great pleasures and great pains and of seemingly fixed realities entropic and compounding-- and for this I must be the best energy I can be.

I realize the change in the wind, it smells different. All of it. I gain new eyes each day.

So I will enter the chasm. With all my strengths, those lit upon and those deep in the dark. I am the archetype, and I breathe wispy inspiration, recycled and a'new. Because I intuit the holiness, and I feel it only right to cherish this beauty all around me... by upholding the true Aristocracy: the Conscious.

“How we fall into grace. You can't work or earn your way into it. You just fall. It lies below, it lies beyond. It comes to you, unbidden.”

 .LOVE. ((Motr'in around in my bodice, transferring by dynamic DNA))


M .A. R

Cyclical Clusterfucks in and around and out Me

Me? I-me-mine?

Who the fuck is that?

I feel like rambling, and it will be potentially ugly and myopic and therefore probably beautiful like the iridescent swirls of oil on a poisoned gull of the Mother Ocean.

I haven't written here in a one-two binary minute. I haven't expunged myself of the sins of my father, of my mother, all the ones before me and of me. Recently, I have had my life on a sinking ship that hesitates in the mouth of a hungering elemental force: water, the emotions.

I am falling in love. More and more with the sun and moon ballroom dance tempo to guide me.

Just reaching, I feel, for authenticity, is radical and raw and hurts a whole lot.

Authenticity. Pleasurepain. The illusion of dichotomies.

With the concentric spirals that lie in her eyes, his eyes, the Eye, I am whirled and whorled within my own pains, which are the worlds.

The locus of my pain is that which pains mother Earth, and anyone who is awake or awakening can feel this sensation, this silent scream that grips in the body and out the body.  

I feel I bring about the cosmic, but I don't. My life has been blessed with the cosmic. I was born awakening, and I am eternally grateful that I was given the Eye to see. Because I have no idea why me and not you, why the heroin addict across the street and not me, why? Why me?

"With great power comes great responsibility."

I am merely a sacrificial vase of jade. An energy allocation awakening; to do the duty it is perfectly designed for.

I am here to Love. To bring connection where it has dissolved. Within my own internal bruis-ed fungus, and necessarily then, without me. ((cleanup time))

 
The joy I intuit is already within me and without me. The joy is all over. This is a phenomenon, a grand phenomenon of CONNECTION. Whatever it is, whoever made it, I cannot yet fathom; but I know it was built to connect, to fuse, to synthesize, to balance itself out, to sustain. The joy is already there, and each of us must clean the dirt around our heart and bowels, and rejoice in the sheer genius of all of this.

phoenix of haus 8 rises from death

But, Now: Our world in this x and y axis of linear space and time has fucked up. Humanity, and perhaps forces higher and lower, have fucked up. I feel it, all the time, so raw, so bruised. Ah, I feel the burden, and my vessel of love is not the only one who feels it.

Whether or not you are awake, you share the burden. 

               The anxiety of which origins you cannot place, which grips you in the middle of the night in a sea-swept sweated bed, that whispers to you from all around and sets off a glitch in this Matrix, when entropy becomes the every-other-day---

that is the pain of an injured planet,

a call to transcend the current reality

of disillusion and utter bullshit,

so blatant its embarassing,

to sublimate your every doing and every thought

to the higher more peaceful more authentic 

calling. 

Real talk.

But, Action?

Que accion? 

I'll take my philosophy for now: Wait to Respond. In sets of threes. Emotionally defined, so I must just ride my waves which I flood into those closest to me. My path is divulging, and the Eye allows me glimpses of the future, and I delight in my path as Rainbowarrior. I delight in the joy I know rides beneath the deepest vortex of shadow. 

Alright, its out. I bow out, for now. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

       

 

Oahahaaaoahaha ooah

I just had really existential/zen implosion over my habit of skateboarding.

I skateboard because I am not frightened of dying. I skateboard because I am deeply, deeply (deeper than) human.

Interesting.


And I am not frightened of dying, anytime will do....

-->

“If I take death into my life, acknowledge it, and face it squarely, I will free myself from the anxiety of death and the pettiness of life - and only then will I be free to become myself.”

Fall's Flying: Balance

A holistic outlook on life. Life as Life. Life as Not Life. 

A synapse here shot straight spiral to philosophical cluster~fuck. 


I realize I'm aggressive in my search for Consciousness. I am fervent, rabid, an animal that believes itself caged and so bites at obsidian fur, a mutilation for an end preservation.

I want to wake myself up todos en tiempo, siempre, ahora. I want to help wake other humans up too, albeit now I am more focused on this here body of mine.

In the fiery propulsion of my star kissed path, I come to land upon something like the wind; swaying, oscillating, brushing up against.
It is an actuality and an intangibility, of course, expectedly.

Balance.

And there I sit and ponder the spiritual gouges that freckle my skin. My eyelid closes slowly again and I question my insatiability: this overwhelming desire to consciousness, to higher being, to a holy vessel living true to its design. 

I am very much like a young stallion learning to gallop. And balance is essential. Balance is essential.

I've been mulling over the concept and manifestation of rationality and irrationality. And how irrationality is very often linked to emotions. And how humans tend to skirt around feeling emotions because of the inability to cognitively, rationally, understand them. 

Then I bathe myself in balance. I see either end of the spectrum (although this is NOT a linear phenomenon) of chronic emotional reactions or chronic rational reactions, as imbalanced, unhealthy, disenchanting, unfulfilling. 

Our life must be a give and take of rational//emotional. I would even argue it best to synthesize the two in every reaction. Conscientiousness. Yes. Feeling your emotional blood beat in every situation while also kindly rooted to the ground like a redwood. 

That is my desire for daily living. For I have witnessed, in myself and others, a polarizing phenomenon of hyper-rationality or hyper-emotionality... and neither serves the individual, as I see it. I perceive them as living one-sided, out of touch with themselves or entirely lost in themselves.  

Either a well-rooted but lifeless redwood, or an uprooted one, soon to die.

Either too rooted in control, or sky high in an emotional whirlwind. 

And I suppose, upon all this mulling over, that it is partially subjective, how I view balance, rationality, emotionality.

But I also believe its partially objective, meaning universal. 

We are one whole organism, human being. Not static no, but definitely unified. And we can intuit and understand equilibrium, as well as sense discord.

Tapping in to tap out. To use your emotional intelligence in the fostering of rational intelligence, and vice versa. Yeah. That's what I seek, to practice, to learn, to gallop.

And by writing this I fulfill the other halve of a whole I mentioned before. That yes, I write this for myself, but also so that you too can be inspired to find balance in your life. Believe it or not, you know exactly what you need to do to find balance; it's already written within and without you.

So.
Begin the day, and be gentle with yourself.




LOVE

M .A. R


Happy Libra everyone, it's gonna be a good one.   

 

Nostalgia's Just a Burp of Time

"The darkness is the closet for which your lover's heart roosts, and that night fowl that caws against her spirit and yours, dropping between you and her the awful estrangement of his bowels... the night is where all becomes estranged."
                                                             -Djuna Barnes,  Nightwood



"There are night people, and there are day people."
 
"Night people do not bury their dead, but on the neck of You, their beloved and waking, sling their creature husked of its gestures. And where it goes, you go."

What you reap you first did sow. This I learn and sometimes know. 





Now, Me time:

"One day I am going to stay up the whole night and walk 'round. I'll kill you with the look of the night and flex my muscle only to know the vibrating wave of your bone goin' crunch. Just sing."

"A uniqorn is whole only when she takes into account her shadow."

Mulling Over Time as it Mulls Me Over ...?

You have finally hit rock bottom: a span called the Planck length, the shortest anything can get. According to recent developments in the quest to devise a so-called "theory of everything," space is not an infinitely divisible continuum. It is not smooth but granular, and the Planck length gives the size of its smallest possible grains.

The time it takes for a light beam to zip across this ridiculously tiny distance (about 10 to the minus 43 seconds) is called the Planck time, the shortest possible tick of an imaginary clock. Combine these two ideas and the implication is that space and time have a structure. What is commonly thought of as the featureless void is built from tiny units, or quanta.

"We've long suspected that space-time had to be quantized," said Dr. Steven B. Giddings, a theorist at the University of California at Santa Barbara. "Recent developments have led to some exciting new proposals about how to make these ideas more concrete."

Regardless of the detail ridden culture of Modern Science, One should ponder upon the implications of the concept behind this....

we (Todos) are an orderly puzzle...oooh Fractals. 

Oooh. Maybe our lives aren't random begrudgeness... maybe one can learn of and tap into the Order.... maybe we've already done this and mostly forgotten how to...

My question is...


What is your Ritual(s)? 

How do you feel most connected? (Connected to this multidimensional breathing rubix cube called l-i-f-e. ?)

The discovery of a correlated relationship between the existence of parallel and vertical universes...making a grid, an infinitesimal grid. Quantum physics baby.

"Trust some ellipses, to chase you 'round the room"- Arctic Monkeys

"The only true aristocracy is that of Consciousness"  -D.H. Lawrence

Have a glorious moment of dimensionalized time called a "Sunday Evening"

LOVE

R .A. M

Breathe Breadth

 "‎Wholeness and longing are as common as breath, so much a part of the fabric of our being they often remain unseen. They meet us everywhere, setting direction, not detail. All we do is answer their call. The shapes we build about them become a life lived, unique in time."
                                                        - Michael Bratnick

Daily Dosage for None

The body is a holy tool.
Holy. I've taken to this word. Again.
For my relations with it, this word, spring forth from a stained-glass youth.

Words as symbols.
Humans as concentrated energy, manifest as sacred geometry.
Unconcerned with life's mysteries but living them, nonetheless.
It's a hilarity! I want to laugh raucously and without care

but the heartiest laugh has just that in it: pumped blood.

And so too, do I cry.

Because that which gives me the greatest pleasure is also the cause for a cavernous underbelly of insidious pain.

And yet, I am becoming more awake. I am waking myself up, for it is no one's task but my own. I am being awoken, by all. And in my surrender to waking, "my" energy transforms into the transpersonal. And humans as a specie move along with everything else. With rusted resistance, nonetheless.

I love the manifestation of consciousness...how our entire being creates Separateness with a jaw-dropping perfectionism. Yang potential, binary.

Sometimes I see humans as swaths of color. And I think that's because of an innate ability to oscillate the perception of my very own nature .... I can see beyond humanness, I can, for a moment, a hiccup in  time * space, see closer truth:  that of Synthesis.

And when I see  that we are just patterns stitched into time, into space, beyond it even... made of the same geometry and varying designs and how we fit to each other in perfection... I laugh and I cry

for I feel that it is so holy. And beyond my comprehension, that which my concepts, my symbols, my tears, can never touch.... but are a part of, nonetheless.

Holy. Holiness. Humanity, the rest, Human design.

Our true nature is that of holiness, of perfect imperfection, of perfect design.
Wake up, accept who you truly are, your design,

tap into your core, the honesty of your every muscles and bone and fluid,
 and life will be the technicolor dreamcoat

or the magic carpet...

or both.
And.

Hubris and A Quote

In the shower, flowered, with this little line...

 "The Universe puts certain people in your life to teach you invaluable lessons; it doesn't necessarily mean you get to sleep with all of them."

                                                 -M .A. R

And another, in skies, with feelings occupied...

 "There's a degree of certainty in not giving a fuck."

Sol Survival

Still as a mountain and like that of a river. I'm carving now, not jutting or inserting myself; flowing.


It has been a wacky cosmological scene, these past moments pouring over into this day today. I experience universal petit morts, little deaths, in the blanket above and in my inner sky. A Piscean blue moon, rare and very fitting. I have learned vast leagues of emotional currency, the mettled ebb and flow of my heart.

I realize very much that I must think less and fly more. Do.

But in this doing I cannot be brash and sudden and foolishly flung. I must be like that of a river or a redwood tree. A movement so powerful in its slowness. Steadiness.

And those who teach me this slowness are in every pocket of this eye socket, of mine. They have both winged swiftness and golden haired quietness. And I love them each as One. I love them all. My love is One.

It is easy for one to think so much and so sporadically, and miss the nectar of every one flower. The teacher however, is forever present and in every being. It guides a faithful student back.

I am doing my bliss. My joy. Not pondering over it until it is a rotten fruit. Or as a neutered fruit that I force from the tree and make to rot. A neutered rotting. I do that too. Efficiently, in my chagrin.

And I am riding a bliss train.
A train that has broken from the tracks and soars upward with the laziness reserved only for those in inexplicable bliss, those who surrender. Surrender,      slowly,       everything.   

Effortless effort, like the moment of a river's and mountain's conception.


I can now fly I realize, but not trying to at all.


Ah, it looks so easy on one-two binary type. And it is.
With a drop of courage and plucked time.






\\LOVE.

M .A. R

go, go where your heart flows and do not doubt the streaming, winging,  feeling

A Shock of NewNess Sewn

First hexagram in a third moment of throwing. It's a cracked falling, thunder storms on Hylian plains. The moon is Uranus and is a sardonic smile, paining to further pleasure. I remember the mirror that sunk its teeth into my face and horrorred this lunatic.

My neck is taught,  tight rope wrapped round a mountain top; skies scream symphonies amidst.

I begin to see infinity in every face I create before me, not mine. A dazed hawk dodging Olympian orations; I can not see my self. I am in the storms of my mind. And I rarely meet another legendary bird here in this freezing warm.

I rarely can see past the golden dendrites I surf around. I rarely see my own feathers in this weather. My neck hurts, chained by my own capitulations, red emblazoned by docility.

I hurt so badly because I realize where I am, a striked mass of winged fury in a lightning kingdom, falling, falling, being.

I am beginning to emotionally accept my perfection, my beauty, my value. Beginning.

But it takes shocks atop shocks to the dome, high frequency paint splatters that incise tattoos of forever, and forever ago.

And stinging lizations that I am Here, but not a Hare. And my aria is sung for an area of heightened ideals, abstracted appeals; in skies screaming symphonies down ahead.

Stillness.
In a thunderstorm.  

I can speak in poetic tongues and seduce you in clandestine silences. But at the end of it all, the moon still has a dark side.

And I am there. Hidden betwixt the blackness. Alone. But not forever, and not forever ago. 






LOVE

M .A. R




  

Rotate the Eye of Tarote

Tarot.
I love the cards. I am the cards.
My romance with them is as old and as young as my relationship with existence.

What sifted to the bottom upon my last visitation to these Sages:

"The Cosmic Law changes itself continually throughout the initiative of its parts."

"For pure will, unassuaged of purpose, delivered from the lust of result, is in every way perfect."

Your Demon is necessary but can destroy your entire personality.

And, finally, come to know the deep purpose of romantic love: "the power that wants to guide us beyond ourselves to the divine experience."

Find me, I'll guide you along the river of your own reading.

Courage is the childlike base for power and wisdom.

Above: The Hierophant from the Voyager Deck.

We are Love.

Brilliant Codes and the Notes d'Change

There is a code, and I can feel it, intuit it.

There is a code to this existence within me and without me.

The past couple sun ups moon downs...my heart has soared and plummeted. And my brain has discovered pain as it tries to craft moments from emotions.

Time and space as a conception-of-the-socialized-human is limiting. I feel that. I feel that time and space are not static measures with which we can then place ourselves in... to a safe little box, dimensionalized and institutionalized. It's not that easy. It's easier.

I am still toying with my theory for existence (and am enjoying this toying). But what I have insofar embraced is the notion of constant motion

                                     constant change. 

How can change be constant? Is it not therefore static? Aha, paradoxes! I love them because they appear to contradict, just like me. (And you).

I do feel constant revolutions happening in every plucked-up, frozen sense-image (def: the creation of my perception through the senses of the physical, emotional, spiritual). I feel change even in the greatness stillness...wow, especially in the greatness stillness!

And it is not always cool calm and collected
for a piscean dreamer like me, A poet so sorrowful in her bliss.
I feel revolutions happening within revolutions within revolutions
and evolutions and devolutions all over...not just in my own compacted relentless river.

And the change can sometimes and always come as a harrowing hurricane
infused into a waterfall
lashing upon the straining barrel of mine ego. 

 This dimensionalized time we call a "week" has been more of a trip for me. A watery abyss I've whirled up and then interchangeably dived and drowned in.

The element of water in most esoteric knowledge pools and world cultural traditions pertains to the emotions.

I've recently been dreaming many things watery. I've been building up emotions for these very moment of the late Now, the Now, and the near future Now.

I have been bringing forth from my darkest underwater caves some  certain muddied waters.
I have been forced to look at the emotions I desire most to dream away into oblivion.

But again...it isn't just time * space.

So here I go, back to both vivid and vague memories of past lovers, friends, events.

And does it hurt. It's like giving birth I suppose, although I haven't done that in quite awhile.

Because it has much less to do with them as it does with My
                     bound up wound up core of writhing snakes I call my orb, my aura, my energy. 

I feel the pain in my proximal energy allocation... I feel it because it has been mine from the beginning, from the very first time I felt what I would later call by a four letter word, or by one of  twelve letters: excruciating.

And your pain has been yours. And I can never feel it. [I can feel my pain as you feel yours. We can feel pain together. But as of now that's my belief on sensation. They are localized to the individual.]

Find a place inside where there's joy, and the joy will burn out the pain.

Joseph Campbell

. . .It's so interesting how the I find myself in deep conversation with the Universe. . .

 pretty much ever since my slowly rebirth into WakeState (I could talk lengthily about this but I'll simply [aha] equate it to my rebirth into consciousness).

And its so interesting how the Universe places
 people and events before your eyes to Wake You Up Further. 

To get you into equilibrium with all that is within you and without you. To get you back into constant change.

See, we as humans hold on to certain thoughts, when, really, our thoughts must always be in a revolutionary motion.

Oh, my mental chains. Your mental chains. Self-defeating thoughts. They alienate us from our True Self and alienate us from Other True Selves too.

I feel the mental chains like bloody fingers climbing a mountain of burning ice;  I do not stop climbing, but I am hurt in a lazily insidious manner.

 And I am fervent. I am an angry little peregrine falcon or a disgruntled (yet still joyful) bird that hums. I wish to release myself, I wish to be free.

Although the pain is hard...the path to unlocking the static belief-prisons within you is not as hard as one might think...

the Universe shows the way. It does so and it is absolutely downright hilarious. And I mean that in all seriousness.

IF you are looking for freedom, the Universe shows the Way. (And sometimes, if you are karmically endowed, even when you are Not looking).

I have examples right now in the dimensionalized existence of Now called "this week" , where the existence around me, the Universe as I call it, has been HILARIOUSLY upfront with me.

[I should state that for this flow of thoughts to make sense one has to disregard the possibility of coincidence within one's existence.]

See, I am very good at creating for myself  severe disillusionment.  Even in a most notorious mental stupor can I wrap myself up in infinitesimal reptilian thought-codes that leave me unable to move, or incapable of stopping (to breathe). Yeah.

But the Universe can place people and events in my life so that I HAVE TO STOP THINKING and merely
                                                 do. 

See, my ego could convince me to stay unhappily up in the static prison of my brain, for a lovely eternity. For even if I am unhappy at least I am saved from the pain of a downtrodden ego. Note sarcasm. 

But the Universe does not function in the static behavior of permanent-made thought reptiles.
It, as I mentioned, likes to work in Change. Constant change. [So, in a strange way that hurts my head to think about, it IS Static. Static in constant change. Woowee. I'mma leave that parodillic path alone for now.] The Universe is You. And it Will Change, and It Will Change You.

So here we go. I find myself crying before I type this. Because I meet someone I am attracted to and the pain of all lovers past and present hits me like several layers of several pains from different trains on multidimensional tracks. 

I feel blindsided... I find myself in a philosophy class wanting to rip myself out of my seat, hunt the innocent being down, and  kiss her and obliterate her at the same time.

Quite the mind-fuck. But I know I am not alone in this experience. I've scrutinized enough to intuit that.

And upon the confession of a bird that yearns to fly free, I find the small beginnings of a grand liberation in a typed and mostly unread confession. 

I am so excited to loosen and then burn
with fiery wings
the ropes I've strung with my mind
over space and time.

And I am beyond-words

thankful

for the Universe as my (sassy and hilarious)
guide.


It is no great wonder that I have always loved the symbol of the Phoenix.
Oh does it burn so good.


Goodnight, I'm exhausted from the fires of life.
See you in the morning.


LOVE
M .A. R


   

Hazy BeforeAfters

Bullet in the Brain- Tobias Wolff (1996)

Read it, it's...brief and timeless.

I've been thinking a lot, per usual. And feeling a lot too. The feeling part is less accessible to me and therefore slightly unnerving. . . .The joy hits me like a bullet to the brain.

It is, feelings of joy, bliss,
that wrap knuckles 'round my spine and womp me like a willow in the wind.

It's something that the cognitive creature within me cannot formulate to destroy. I can never truly describe the feelings of absolute bliss, or of absolute sorrow. I cannot ever truly understand them...if understanding means the computation of the brain into ideas made of words.

For at the end of the day, these words are but lies.

And that is okay by me. Because I feel...and in a way I feel a separation there, a space there

where feelings have room to breathe, unfettered by the chains that words and thoughts compose.


That is why we fall in love
or fall in hate
or sleep at night or relieve ourselves
in bodily functions....

and yet these words... they separate what is inextricably linked...

falling in love and defecating are the same thing...yes, conceptually...ah but can it be described in words?

I will try, albeit lazily. And like Wolff, by being brief.

 :   energy transfer. Motion.

Falling in love or defecating is the building of two "distinct" energy sources amongst a matrices of myriad others. Two organisms blending energies to synthesize another third, separated but connected energy.  And then the energy is built upon built upon built upon, until there is a climax (Any other arising parallels yet?) and then the energy must be released, decreases, dissipates. . .

either in the form of a turd
or a falling out of love....


Now, a turd can further be broken down by other organisms and recycled through the planet and used again,

so too can love be recycled...because one does not just fall in love and it remain this static or perpetually transcending line... no it obeys the cyclical nature of time and oscillates between "highs" and "lows" and deaths and rebirths.

What some call "True Love" (an interesting notion to me) is that "third-party synthesized energy" that is correctly formed to navigate each cycle of high and low, death and rebirth, and transcend in an upward spiral trajectory.

[What do I mean by correctly formed? I'm not damn sure, but I know it to happen. Again, it is beyond words. But, well, here: Correct formation... has to do with everything really... the two distinct personalities, the bodies, the souls, the environments, the experiences of lives past and present and future, and, of course, the True Will of each person. Puzzle pieces that do have the capacity to shift shape, of course, warp.]

I do not believe in coincidences, so I therefore take so-called "True Love" to be an energy transfer (in the form of an upward spiral trajectory) that is a necessary creation of two distinct Life Paths, and a necessary creation that is temporally longer than the majority of romantic relationships in one standard human lifetime. 

If that was discernible, then brava to me. It all makes sense in my head//soul.

Energy. Motion. All deducible to vibrations. All of it.

It is simple and yet, as is broadcasted above, possible of unending complexity.

Life.
Love.
Shits.

And the most fascinating part? We have the power to shift our perception. From the most minute details and fancy words

to just feeling bliss when I stare at a tree or any certain youthful soul. 

 
Wow. And from the emptiness comes light
and it is so dark and
it is so bright.
All that we know is quite
but not quite.
It comes as space and time
but not finite.
So just unstrap the belt,
let the hair flow
and
enjoy

enjoy the ride.



LOVE

M .A. R (todos)

  

Feathers and the Ruffled

In my public writings I try to maintain a certain decorum, a certain statuesque composure. Just as the words stream out of me, full of care and control, in this way I do also walk.

I should even more bluntly state that my public "face" is that of saving; I like to maintain my sense of composure. I resort to tall, statuesque and inwardly absorbed when I am most vulnerable. And it works, at least in my mind it does (and that's what counts right?). But I know those other souls tapped into the universal nectar can sense distress no matter how thick the armor... I very well can. 

Composure.

Love and feelings of lust don't quite float when it comes to a maintenance of composure.

I find myself breaking down again and again when these feeling arise... I feel...like a crab on a beach without my shell.

Funny thing is, I can run a lot faster without my shell. And with as much swiftness I so too can die.
Get plucked up by a gull or stamped upon by a beach-struck child.

And that is a scary assortment of choices for a crab.

However, and perhaps this is what makes me human, I am a kamikaze crab. I am aware of the dangers of shellessness and yet shellessness is where I am to go. Where I desire to go.

I am following the feelings of lust. Because I have foolish courage, and because I know in my naivete that I must do what I am most afraid of.

That is, pursuing my desire. 

I mean that in a eros way, and even an agape way. And I don't mean holey, oh wait, I do. Aha! (So very punny. If you got that you get a point! for attending catholic school or any school.)

Desire. I mean, my drawings, paintings, masturbations, and sideways smiles. I also mean the desire in another's eyes... the sudden dread of realizing how clearly you can see yourself in those two soft shards of glass...

                                         down the rabbit hole of love/ fear

I am delightfully terrified. And equally as blessed.

For my intuition guides me Into and Out Of situations.
And I have quite a high bounce-back rate after being devoured by a seagull.

And, ah, thank you me, I have courage.

Courage.

To follow my fear desire fear desire   fearire.

Woo Woo, thank you Link. If I had to choose one angle of the triforce, I'd choose yours.
....Actually no, I choose Zelda's cos wisdom knows of courage. Regardless.



Courage, Patience, Permission.

[Insert allusion to the benefit of meditating upon these three non-actions here.]

I want to love, deeply and romantically... cos its been a windy path up the mountain and I feel it is about Now that I truly connect on a soaring cliff-face;

for too long I've been cloud-hidden,

whereabouts unknown.

Follow your fears and your greatest frustrations... therein lies your peace. 

LOVE.

M .A. R

Loving the Little Person Inside You

I feel as if my intuition is that of the universe's, and I feel that I am unraveling it slowly. What I mean to say is, I feel that I am growing in my capacity to intuit. 

I notion now, instead of feel, that this is because of paradoxical phenomenon I observe. 

Surrender to obtain.

Orange-red sand through your fingers. But in a way that now sleeps the whole desert between your toes. 

The cognition and the ego, creating static in the carpet shuffle of the analytic life. Why? Look up and breathe without thought for awhile; it is from up there that lightning comes.

 

 I am brought to a state of syrup sweet delirium when I watch trees dance in the wind on Hogwarts thee Second Universe-ity. And everywhere, really. The notions are gone, of maniac or of saniac...

it doesn't matter anymore, the labels, the value-judgements. I am more entranced by things that be.

Like birds, dragonflies and the black-and-orange bug that pooped on my thumb in the art quad today.

Things that be. Things that be-come. Todos, all of it. And we are so lucky to be surrounded by and inside and outside of a great teacher, the greatest teacher. . .

The answer belongs to breath and thoughtlessness.

And always, remember, to laugh.

Said defecating bug, Sir Poopy Thorax; A Multicolored Asian Lady Beetle Larva

(so cute!)

I am awfully greedy; I want everything from life. I want to be a woman and to be a man, to have many friends and to have loneliness, to work much and write good books, to travel and enjoy myself, to be selfish and to be unselfish.

— Simone de Beauvoir

There is nothing more tedious, puerile, and inhumane than love; yet it is also beautiful and necessary.

— Virginia Woolf, To The Lighthouse

Notions of Anti-Notions, what? 

LOVE.
M .A. R