The Weather of late unto Hindu episteme & Chasidus

We've had a ton of rain in Central KY all Summer, and over most our Winters we have maybe a total of 12inches of snow, a few inches here a few inches there. But if this is any indication of things to come--Greenland melting!--our Winter will be a doosy. I am entirely anticipating this. I was walking at our Arboretum over by the Univ of Ky 2 days ago, & the Fall leaves had that excellent decaying smell & gave me the first hint of nostalgia for this season. I like the words, Blue slumber of the Moon-soaked shade, torn from the pages of Arthur Rimbaud, because I can imagine similar collusions of the transitional climate I endured while running around my old neighborhood as I did for 27 yrs. Houses became personified, and weren't anything without the veil of cool Autumnal nights. **I intensionally went to the sink-hole at the local hillocky park--just grass & trees (Beaumont Park), and sat under undistressed dormant trees there hemmed in by a security fence, all encircling the earth's depression... I'd read National Geographics as if the alliterative could subject this real world nature scene with veiled eyes, like I could stand IN them higher than the sweet air would already permit...
P.K. USED TO PLAY OVER AT LMNOP. Back in the day there was a dark orbiting feeling I thrived on knowing all that these people cared about was release & no pretension of who I was. I liked being the junction toward that effect. And if we observe "the-letting-go," we surface with the experienced-forms of self, rather than ultimately sacrifice ourselves in the fray of less serious moments. Over at Montmullin (right across from Campus, nect to the old Theological Seminary) w/the Weathermen & then Also sometime later the impressions were thus: Surmising the plain hearth, looks like a spectralShore--I loaded it up w/ideas, toyed w/it. The smoke is the philosophy & the sky so vast, waiting, but not much can be seen! The sky is the mind, smoke gives it dimension. We go & lay our head, something tells us to do that. The fire burps & spews & we're not surprised. We think. And I felt I was a "Driver back in Khartoum." Guns were drawn, the TV stupidly plays--its antennae reflecting, alarmed. I set the bottle of whiskey on the table. I had bought it earlier that day intending upon a slow drunk--I give it away instead. Back toward the door I'm borne out to the streets. The Autumnal sky created by the architecture of birds over-coming, evading the smoke, clinging to tall trees--mayhem in some, like the breathing constituent mind, pulsing. Taking shelter in the warmest regions, I sit down & watch awhile. My ride will be there soon. Damn, I remember walking over to this cemetery--in a similar season's gray, the main one here in Lexington in this haze back when REd Fly Nation was making music--the band I was in. Getting out of our downtown abode, book in hand about alchemy, the sun seemed to say I had enough time to find a conscious pocket & commiserate on a Then unknown-- It was evening time, but no social rapproach in that I am my own worst critic, would sucker me into being something I couldn't or wouldn't live up to anyway. Like Bob Marley says--my then constant companion--"Music a godly thing." And the good company I kept in the place where humans were interred, was made of an indefinite chorus. There was something in the river of sight to which I belonged...the eternal world was the temporal one. And all the deceased pointed to it.
**I believe in ultimate compassion. The Narrow-minded might say, sure--I feel ensconced in sweet whiling away moments, too! I'd tell you the sky is the limit, and maybe moving from the Personal You to the Objective furthest reaches of what is numinous before You, IS Immanence & not an Indefinite Chorus of Mind's path & meter, but actually is a brave narrative, the best. And I'd yield to the Moment finally & with no reservations. I'd Go. I'd Go!! And the sky would be met--not just the whisp from a log beneath the hearth. And for those who persist on the passport of epicurean designs as upon Responsibility & Mitigated schedules, I would tell you it is true--my time has no reward and no punishment!!
**I had a dream last week in which a horse bit off my 2nd to last finger from my right hand. I just stared at it all bedazzled in the dream wondering at the implications. We were at a farm/ranch & the day was gray like in summary of what these last couple of weeks have been. My pinky had the distil tip missing too. What does that mean? The horse, Ashvin in Sanskrit, has been a subject of my reading over Hindu's episteme of late. But how I interpret this beautiful animal in the recesses of unconsciousness, I could only guess. I've had magnificate dreams in the past few days--lazy weekend and all. And this langour makes me unmotivated to get on FaceSpace (sic). Are you still studying?! Being a student has everything to do with expense of our ability to proliferate what it is that compels us to learn. So, my capital is all this ascetic derived ideation. However, usually there is NO IN for me in the human marketplace, because this stuff is conceptual and almost contrived...and yet there are two women authors whose depth with which I keep getting inundated beyond my norm. Karen Armstrong gives me fantastic dreams (her latest which I purchased at Morris' Bookstore down the street, is called A Case for G-d), but lately I've dreamt about something Wendy Doniger related: the Horse Sacrifice. My ex's (Alison's) Mom made silks, and I've dreamt about horses, and my ex of late. According to the Brahmanas --early Hindu scripture, I think, what it is we do IN this life will be done to us in the World-To-Come. If we eat rice unceremoniously now--or a fish, or a horse, they will eat us in the next world. According to the Hasidim, the animals that are our denizens surrounding us in our habituation with intercourse & ritualization with them & G-d, have the souls of our ancestors mitigated thru their sentience...which is why we treat all creatures with respect/halakhah!