Bluegrass Airport--feeling so good in my neighborhood

Having your cake and eating it too!! Drawing on the naked walls, and empty ceilings at the house of all my changes, I found out that the newness of interests demanding a refrain of spent energy unto that ideal was not going to be reason enough to make identity as that uber-goal. Christianity was ultimately new--because my Jewish G-d was considerably antiquated before Christianity would interfere with histories' jumping off point, but nothing was there to refuse, so that I might alight to its simplicity, as the case may be (thinking about Dylan here!).The thing you refuse becoming the thing you use, so often comes from how averse you were to change. I knew change--flipping inside out like the On switch of Tic Tocs upon the walls containing me, so my mind was one big Yes! And nothing convinced me that I'd alienated anything--thus identity was impossible: the ultimate symbol of the self can't be any artifice real or imagined--plainly it doesn't exist...so start with nothing!!
A Win-Win situation, RT? But, utopian goals are merely a deer's lair in my mind as if I wake up in a dream & suddenly I am speaking the language understood only thru instincts that in the waking moments leave me with complicated feelings. So, putting complications into a convenient box has me equal the perfect moment I describe which was a night vision (dreaming dreams) in reprieve of staying up thru the nights when I worked the graveyard shift at UK, as maintenance crew. My mind would be subsumed by these dreamt nurturing emblems of being the deer's submissive, while the deer is the surrogate "me" performing a needed escape. What was imperfect was having my mind consult this dream-oracle in self-counseling, because in my wakened moments of those over-night hrs, I was utterly improvising a fragmented existence no one in relationship near or far could reach me or conceive of. Having my cake may mean knowing how I'd be received--eating IT too, would be projecting that "box" in my understanding of cognitive complexity. As deeply as we accord what we understand about the "other" to that fixation that somehow our control is immanent, sometimes I would much rather see less distance complicate my all-pervading lucid moments that of the One_Mind and the prevailing loss that is our most basic condition, that control isn't what it is about. It is not a matter of just letting things naturally occur: because I am reading the lay of the land, and sacrificing one observation only to anticipate another. We deal with transparency--our own--when in consideration of the OUtward fact, those who are more adept consider US subject to something they've already transcended. So, how do we appeal to that transparency, when otherwise we wouldn't want to think very hard about those parts of a Greater Reality--a reality we've yet to answer for? Maybe appearances can detain us from painting the world in colors so anthropomorphic that the human condition NOW wouldn't make our insignificance so depreciable?--so stepping out & away from our own human effulgence would be a goal! I like to imagine faces in the clouds, but as birds over-taking create an architecture past the folly of this urban-scape, I'd rather imagine the sky as their limit, and I am only subject to that which is On-high.
*~*In the Spring, I always liked the personality of the burb neighborhood coming out, and not just what is obvious, but what seems sleepy & hidden. When it fogs over and, I am generally up rather early, looking across the burb-scape, the trees look like an abstract scaffolding, the limbs stunted behind puffs of fog. And the trees are mind-architecture emblems look as removed as that distance strung when we suss answers from equally as unapproachable recesses in our thoughts... KY is a wet state, and spring out in Daniel Boone Nat. Forest has all that loamy smell I know I could carry around past this samsara incremental cycle I am chained to, in this yah dispensation... My dreams many times have a mythic path availing before me as each step I take reaches for the ground of being, from the farmland with creeks & springs & solitude down around my house where I grew up & then into my 30s. Magnolia trees are way abundant in KY, and their blooms are bold, white & strange thinking about old growth forest where you might imagine oaks, big trees etc. I had gone to lie under pine trees at the edge of the church parking lot next to a local small horse farm, absorbing the pine smells and wanting the allure of the inner-sensei moments to create new bounds where I'd compose myself in netherly "I AMs." Even in light rain I'd read under this pine tree's boughs, reading the Red Calvary stories of broken churches, deposed Jewish communities, vacant gleams of roseate sun-lit hues channeling the author's true to life trajectory in a socialist state unto his death at their hands (Stalin's hands)!!
***Ear-dimensional conscious displays had illustrations of a particular coffee table book on the history of civilization, as the finnese of my solitude, hearing sounds arriving like the world had gotten louder, colors brighter, immediacy more expansive... "THE TRUMPETS THAT BLOW IN MY FACE W/ SCORN!” --Dylan lyricked, remind me of the visual I had of these filtering displays that looked like horns coming from a hulking base of skin-toned something. I know at this point in my student of life repose, I was dreaming of what seemed like a skin-scape because of a Flavius Josephus book--its very cover of brown worn leather, “Antiquities of the Jews,” that I got from Zadie's collection; this book was translated from the Greek in the 19th century. I kept imaging as I read along that I was seeing delta symbols, taus, just various letters other than the English. This seemed to imply a truth from an ancient time but did not concord with Helenism or Judaism but had an anthropomorphic essence- If language is a god unto itself, think Thoth, the gods as states of mind were what I saw as primates (I mean after all, gods are created in our image, Right?!)--animated selves, in a line leading up to H. Sapien Sapien, in dreams just like it was a legend for a map, but in this case it was for thoughts.
~~~The appetite I have for things Jewish is found in a stretch in the same environs. Right off this same road where the church lie is Bluegrass Airport.
In focus is Yom HaShoa= THe (Remembered) Day of the Holocaust. So damned remote we are that this goes on, has gone on--and yet I go on. Elie Wiesel, Auschwitz survivor, has worked for human rights in attempts to rid these same demented inhumanities provocated thru political extremists toward ethnic cleansing, which defies any true definition of Ethnicity anyway... I saw him on TV one time, now many yrs ago, and I was, in those few moments preceding his media communique', very mindful of the world & alterior conscious map. Then with his way of imparting such seriousness to be imbibed, I saw the opening unto a bigger picture. I was thinking about a trip abroad, and doing so, so vainly or not, I rode up to Bluegrass airport which is only 2 1/2 mls from my old house, parked in an illegal parking lot (a thoroughbred carrier's seasonal lot), went in & inquired about tickets to - I guess, Israel. But, only to develop a sense of constituency with this place--as no $$ would avail this plan, & yet $$ is beyond the pale of my seeking this sorta self-actualization. The map in mind was now replete with digressions of Wiesel having become a khalutzim (pioneer) back after the war, and just having left the philosophical plateau of French culture, is just as my departure from the loamy thoughts that I had it all figured out... then and only then does a One World Village make sense.