I’m going to let it “shuffle.” Mind you there will not be any “sources” or outside links, this is strictly going to be a controlled demolition.
“Suddenly there’s a shadow hanging over me….” as if I needed a reminder of the dark space that connects us all. My shadow, cast upon an onlooking tree outlined a form I didn’t know. Long hair with an old man’s hat on, as if I was on a Sunday stroll in the woods. Well quite frankly I was on a stroll, and I was in the woods, so I carried on, still being watched by that cascading dark figure of a man that drifts from my feet. I paused to look at an interesting tree, it was carved by a hand, the sketches of two towers with a plane heading toward them. Inscribed with 9 / 11, funny how you cross the world and still the same nightmares always follow, as if I could never awake from this dream, as if our realities were tied together through mindless rapture, always crying out to change the game, change the station, change the tune, change anything…….that damn shadow was nodding in agreement, damn, he always knew…..or at least did a bang up job pretending that he knew.
Last swig of “green” tea for the day, I guess they don’t comment on what color it is when it enters my mug, renamed to sludge tea, Deepwater Horizon has nothing on my tea. “Through these fields of destruction, baptisms of fire, I’ve witnessed your suffering as the battled waged high….” So many people remain within themselves to power the endless infinity. The power of perfection and pursuit to no end. I am leaving this world riddled with hate and money, I fly to other ends, other worlds that will incubate my soul, keep it from worry, from fear, for within this warm circle I shall find a place to baptize my own soul through its desire and quest for divinity. A true mirror of divinity, without the smoke filled walls, beyond the stars and through them, I shall lay down within its very dust, caked to my gaseous form of nothing.
“Half a mile from the canyon ferry and the rain came pourin’ down….” full of college memories, a prism of colored light that has continued to light my older life. Why must I always yearn to the source of the flame within? Why can’t I be ignorant and indifferent and let this polluted river run its course without my stoned interruption? Behind the bar, receiving the call for help and always lending a smiling ear. Of course I’ll listen to your life, your call for help, but know that because I don’t act on it, doesn’t mean I don’t care, I was simply the gate to let you walk through so that the universe could hear you, as you can hear you, that’s all I ever was behind that bar.
“Last Sunday mornin’ sunshine felt like rain…..I still have two strong legs and even wings to fly….” At the Beacon in New York, smoking a cigarette outside in the cool night air. Looking up at the marque, The Allman Brothers Band……sent chills through my spine, or was that the 5 screwdrivers that were pounded 7 blocks from here? Who knew? Who cares? What does caring even mean? “Don’t forget the pouuuuu eeeoooyyoo ooooriin’ rain….” Never forget the pourin’ rain. That stuff will cleanse your soul and send you back to the ocean upon which you came from. Which in the perspective of the universe is simply a puddle. A puddle of what? Why must we label and name things to death, as if they even had a chance to live without names and their corresponding keyboard letters? Ahh but what are we but simple people who must learn and know everything, for it will be this quest in searching that will truly end all our limits.
Too bad nobody told me in 2nd grade, “Hey man, don’t worry about school, period. When you get older you’ll be trying to find ways how to de-program yourself from all this societal conditioning anyway, so the less you take away from this institutionalized brain screw, the better, trust me little boy, trust me…..” Check. De-programming in progress, how do I un-learn what I’ve learned, where’s the opposite switch button? Or is that irrelevant and in another dimension somewhere else…..maybe in my “cloud.”
Why can’t I look at the clouds anymore without a dropping sensation in my stomach? Why can’t I just think, ya, they are all contrails, they are left by airplanes, frozen particles, it’s natural really, they really aren’t trying to control the world you live on….shhhhhhh just let it go. You can’t stop all the planes from flying, you can’t stop the machine Neo……naw…..keep digging, how do I un-learn, ahhhhhh, shoving the books from the table, I can feel the energy beyond words.




8 Comments

Well, I think that an awareness is a beginning. The-more-you-learn-the-less-you-know kind of thing. I have always been fascinated with social engineering and social conditioning from the vintage era, because I grew up with it.
My take is that this might be the key:
“Ahh but what are we but simple people who must learn and know everything, for it will be this quest in searching that will truly end all our limits.”
I think that the joy in seeking is killed when the mystery is killed. The mystery is killed once one boxes it into simplistic, profitable, and in some cases threatening terms and descriptions. I see people do this by cherry-picking translated scripture, distilling it as if cooked under reflux, then re-translating again into different messages all together, and using the whole mess to scare people and turn a personal profit. (ex: some tele-evangelists)
On undoing the learning- hey, something as simple as good music, rain, and great writing. Getting out in the rain, taking in the sun, the shadows, a little reflection and hey: the things that really matter are free.
Well I hope that comment made some sort of sense.
rec’d.
It made sense with a smile. Thank you, the awareness is key, yes. I guess in all actuality, it may just be the spiritual side that is awakened throughout all of this turmoil. The turmoil we have allowed to be created in front of us, in order to remember, that there is something deeper we are all a part of.
Thank you again. Smiling always helps…..
Existing within this trap of a life, a shadow forms his own thought; the quest for a mirror tool to understand itself. To break free from the facts that may deceive deep intellect, surface noise implants for the blue-light special shoppers.
Search for the velvet felt facts, sourced from what we hope to be truer feelings (the distillate of understanding) our more real inner selves; our truer selves who from time to time wonder whether the pathos of life’s tears\ rain or hope\ sun can bring into us a hint of a key to the answer of whether this cave of a place is hell or no.
No easy dime store shadow answers here,… yet a philosophic composite may best penetrate the veil; we get a peak sometimes, never enough, otherwise, gotta wait and see. Your common senselessness deprograming is complete, we gotta make own wings down here;… yours look fine. rec’d
“if you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.” -thoreau
That came to mind. Thank you. Your words carried on to which I felt I have started. To where we know not, but we do know that we are somehow intertwined, we dream together, influence each other. Your words were taken kindly and with a warm heart.
We are all a product of our culture. We are conditioned and said conditioning begins when the doctor or midwife announces “Its a …(boy or girl – fill in the blank) … we cannot help but be conditioned. Therefore, it is part and parcel of the curriculum.
We are “this and that” until we are “not this” … “not that”. The curriculum is designed for us to discover that which lies beyond “this or that” but only if we look – consciously and with awareness, innocence and an open receptivity beyond our conditioning.
I always delight in your words, Chebetts. Thank you for posting.
Rec’d. (with smiles, playfulness, and respect)
Zounds, hermit; this is the Cosmic Cliff Notes version! Loved the interpretation. ;o)
Do we leave behind words when we try to open the Doors of Perception? It may be so. Do you think in words or images, chebetts? Dunno when it started, but i struggle between the two modes, words to mind pictures, more images, let them swirl, then try to sort them out to write. Pretty clumsy process altogether.
I like words, though. When someone reminds me of one I’d loved but lost, it cheers me up, as when bootsie reminded me of ‘serendipity’ the other day. ;o) We name things so we can communicate about them, but then we can still not communicate well personally at times, since we *hear* one another with preconceptions, associations with words, and in the socio-political sphere, often concerted attempts to bastardize words for illegitimate purposes.
Shadow selves; shouldn’t we embrace them in a way, even as we wrestle with them, tame them? I think I no longer trust folks who try to ride the crest of the waves. To be aware seems to require a bit of near-drowning now and again, to use your water metaphor. Did you forget tears? I can’t remember; they are such allies for me. ;o)
Rec’d, chebetts.