“In the high country of the mind one has to become adjusted to the thinner air of uncertainty, and to the enormous magnitude of questions asked, and in turn must ask, what is the truth and how do you know it when you have it.” ~ Robert Pirsig
Earlier it was slate gray sky and silence at play. No animal noises, no traffic, air still as can be. I had only the ringing in my ears and the familiar, comforting noise of my thoughts. It’s kinda cool to watch those thoughts go by like a train in the night, watching to see beyond to what is on the other side of the train, rather than actually focusing on the train. It is an image exercise I learn from the late great Stephen Levine. Vipassana, mindfulness, whatever. Much needed, much appreciated, a treat I give myself when I remember to. Images that came up beyond the train gave me a glimpse of where my soul is looking today, and these images are like doors of sorts, opening into the vast unconscious realms within . . . you know, like subjective stuff . . . and stuff. One image is of mom, only months away from death, and she was well aware it was coming. Sitting in her recliner, food pump hanging idle on the IV rack at her side. Floral print pajamas, American Spirit non-filter in hand, ember active. Cappuccino on the table at her side. Cancer in her gut, working away. Eighty pounds of tough. The amount of Light I see through this memory is immense. Then, at the break table at the animal shelter, a few of us hanging out, cigarettes burning, stories being shared of the morning’s pain and hope and shit. Zach with his feet up, shades on. Anthony, Juliet, Janet, Lori, Savvy; early on, sometimes Dr. Gene. There were many over the course of my time there. Animals, all troubled, 200, give or take. What we went through there is beyond words. The amount of Light I see through this image is immense. See, I’m all about Light this morning. I think it was the Templars who liked to say that “All things are Light”. That’s pretty much the case, if you ask me. In part my focus today, on Light, comes from the realization that our national political dilemma is somehow a failure of consciousness. Things are going downhill. I won’t get into details. Trump is just the prop. An improper prop at that. Then you have the Lightworkers, peacemakers, wisdom keepers. And then you have the Bilderberg watchers, those who see shapeshifting reptilians behind the masks of the powerful, Matrix fighters; then climate change deniers, gun lovers, abortion haters. I just don’t know dude it’s like all messed up and stuff dude. Division alright, we’ve got it in spades. What’s a guy to do? It just started to rain, a smidgen so far. Tonight, they say, will bring 1-2 inches of snow. I’m gonna do laundry this morning. What I’d like to do later on is to raise my arms and shout out to the heavens to please stop all of this shit that culture hath wrought. Shout out to God that I don’t want to be Christian. Shout out to the Goddess to help her children heal. Maybe that’s what is really going on. Maybe these are birth pangs our American psyche is experiencing. Shout out to the Ancestors. Tell them what? What?! Whatever. Just friggin shout. But I’ll enjoy the laundromat. And then the snow. I’m all tremory this morning; anxiety waves, that kind of stuff. I’m writing, which is hopefully a doorway leading into the collective unconscious. Art can take us there. Yeh, maybe. Ummmm, maybe tomorrow. All told though, it’s a sweet morning and hopefully I will be sweet throughout the day. Hey, listen, you can be sweet and shout at the same time. I think that is what I see beyond the runaway train. Sweetness and Light. You may say I’m a dreamer, right?
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.