RAISING MY HAND toward the MARGINALIZING of CONFORMITY ...hmmm. In this dispensation the 3rd world man is the Trees and the Cosmopolitan Suit waving his plastic finger, is destined to wander the forest alone. LIGHT plateau - dark CORRIDOR; white black white black: I watched what I saw! The last TIME we gave ourselves to the moment may have been our last reFLECTion before the veil of tears reMINDed us that IT had been a Karmic death.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

I'll PUT A WALL BETWEEN ME & YOU, & WE'LL BOTH LEAN ON IT

Doesn't 5 minutes, or a year or 5 or 10 when we get justice from our good deeds, indeed defines the very randomness many fear. As an argument against saying fate brings us just what we'd deserve. So, take this idea that life is FRAGMENTED, and then as is said in this thread from FB we BRING OUR OWN MEANING, therefore continuity that otherwise was not there... Seems like we must define ourselves as intercessors on behalf of some kind of Higher Ground, maybe Greater Will. But we can't point to this Greater Reality as if our temporal lives are anything but vastness and somehow solitarian. We are very alone in the silent organs of Consciousness, Wakefulness, so it is encumbent upon us to learn to survive. Community is good, social living is the best as the reggae, Rastaman says, Winston Rodney (Burning Spear). G*D perhaps is immanent, not pie in the sky--a World to Come, as if somehow I can do something and have that pay-off. No Meaning to this life, just movement and the power of observation toward awakening and wisdom. No Creator, No Meaning, Heart Open, Light Mind, Step. ***Asking who advises me as to where I get my philo-observations is like asking which mailman from before my birth do I look like? LOL No, really. I read Karen Armstrong for this strain of ideation. And Krishnamurti who justifiably (think Theosphical Society, and the Orientalists) wasn't as the name suggests an Eastern Thought advocate, but rather, very interestingly would brave some idea like Thought Is Fear, and help the reader to Think about the folly of clinging to belief et al. His thing was Truth is a Pathless Land. He lived mostly in Ojai (Spanish pronounciation), California. His book Krishnamurti to Himself is very readable, definitely not cultish as his name would make a lot of people think. Basically he was just a progressive. If you look up how Socrates had his method to teach--it is exactly the same, I'd say. And even in the Jewish sense without our roseate emphatic gestures, the way of answering questions with a question is his approach too. **** A renascence is afoot. I am looking very distantly as far as I want, and everything seems immanent. If I were a soma imbiber I'd call this high on life new day expansive and feeling large--speaking of religion's headwaters. IF the archetype to our heros is spoken of before his/her origination that you'd recognize, wouldn't it be noble to find the Other as no longer An-other? ~~~**In ancient Egyptian En Het Enheh, means the Castle of my Eternity...and so, in that we dream, thereby we'd exist, dreaming of life's beginnings as if it couldn't be captured in a mere 5000yrs, or the nation's antecedents!!
By the way WANDERings (POTOK) has a great sense of Jesus' message imparted. I will win in moments of self-consciousness, because truth is a pathless land and I am standing in the place where I live.
The remittance of peace into my day. Really nice, macrobiotic thinking. The sense that we are "taking in everything at once" as Watts says, to put it frankly is in the formula distance equals relationship. Looking out unto a vista and all that it contains is seeing ourselves in relationship. You can't tote it around in a wheelbarrow--we can only manifest what-is!
After seeing Alan Watts video of his stroll in wilderness, deliberation about how it is that the world is matching our effort to be released into it, it is a kind of relief seeing the intermediary places as I paced the Nicholasville rd eternal shopping mall corridor, looking down at grass on the side of sidewalks. The grass all wet, the loam breathing and constituent with silences from dipping out off frenetic traffic clashing. The pulse of thrumming cars with wafting exhaust gets terminated by bushes with a little better air, leafy smells that my mind coalesces around as if something is right at the periphery and gets me out of the river of yelling reports off of the road.