Saturday, December 22, 2012

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

Sunday, December 9, 2012

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 

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.