Try Calling me a Pagan--the glove fits

I'm playing king of the mountain in my mind, today. It is not that of a kind of heirarchy, me amongst those who've chosen to endure great heights in ways to while away, but rather I am finding solitarian self-denial up here, and everyone I know pushed me to these limits for a reason. In the clouds of philosophy, in the repose of thunder, hearing lightning vox, arguing out what-ever could be said to my now X, but she who is still forever mine.
The synaptic choice is that observation of who all has clamored with me unto vast yawns and distant looks. Maybe, looking into a psyche of my fellows is easier here--the confirmed Peak-Moment when I'd look, but it is no recompence to intuit his/her next move til I am understood in light of their statement and presence bearing utility, saying I'm here too, man--we did this long ago, Remember?

Subject: when I'd worship and G^D

Christian Compassion doesn't include me til you admit that it doesn't have to. That goes for the rest of you religious imbibers. Now go light your Holiday Tree and be happy. (just being honest and flip, ha ha!)

The earth will receive us, one day this is where within and in the impermanent record had its last say. So it makes sense that Muslims bow and are prostrated upon the earth. On it, upon it the earth has given us to repose as objective as it is stalwart. We contrive to have the wagging powers stop their predominance because the earth gives us a pillar to lean on--the ground is foundation and cornerstone serving. I'd easily worship earth, as memorialized space isn't as easily found having nothing abound in a vacuous yonder as is where we say a G^D emanated (=found in Nothingness, the G^D On-High). Tolstoy--a great X-tian, perhaps an example to me, a Believer whose Messiah is defined as man Who dies for our sins, so let us contemplate the frailty and fearsome woe as something with which we put our emulation & substance IN, and make better, said: Your Compassion Causes Me Violence. So I am guessing from something making me wonder at violence in just one beginning stage, some terrible stressful condition when society says speak of things in just this one way and no other alternative. Some agree to that, some are plainly only going to speak to a middle ground ignoring the symbolism that had society give them validation. My question is when did the Institution become the place where people felt they were given the right to salvation?

My good friend in the scholarly vein when we convene, he notes that we have different ways of identifying said prophet or ascetic character. That just shows variants in and within the context of biblical personages: when we have read the name in different etymological senses. Obaydiah, or Obediah is Abdullah, meaning slave of G*D from this convergence of authorial air, I understand of late reading, is in our biblical contexts in one way I didn't really think about. Kyrios, was mentioned, I tried to look back at the reference but lost the page/ now confirmed means LORD in Greek--I was all in the moment looking at Jesus as Servant...sons of G*d are what The Israelites are, and how He is denoted with his healing devotional path to the children of G*D. Servant was stressed by Karen Armstrong, and I shouldn't have said that her book on the Axial Age, The Age of Transformation, was anything...anything...but excellent. My caprice simply isn't followed in it, yet when she finally gets to the Hebrew, then Christian ideal, the spirit that comes asunder just as in Chaim Potok's book WANDERINGs--is a fulminate numinous experience. A history of Judaism--a novel, dealing with a beautiful definition of your (X-tian's) Theosophical narrative, authorial Entity, dare I say=Jesus was coolly coolly approached in his writing about HIM. I love that book--and needed to hear Jesus discussed so honestly. This book more than any has impressed me and somehow deliberating on it now, I am looking for some garment of ideation as if the technicolor bhakti (Hindu's devotion or Love) I WANT TO MAINTAIN, is going to be captured in any one moment per POTOK and his rabbinic mysterion.
^^Subject: maitreya

I just thought that this was a Buddhist School, the way it is discussed in Gere's Pilgrims. The idea was that whenever a negative thought arises, the Aspirant would mark a black mark on the ceiling of his cave. Then likewise when positive thoughts arise. First 10 yrs of negativitity, then the over-coming of the lethargy of time by the next 10yrs of White marks reconciling the monk's new day, which was to go back to society and find his master. I am thinking the sense of it was that he was following Maitreya studies before his nirvanic (nibbana) ascension when he kneals before a wounded dog and places his tongue in its puss ridden body to extricate the maggots. As he commences, just as perhaps my tongue was flattered by the spirit, he tastes an Immense sun burst, whereas I felt availed of some kind of path. It is all about tasting our bliss, I believe. Curious!! Presuming we can taste inner-liberty thru the sampling of antecedents, whether some issuant spirit body, human love, or as I did when I placed my tongue on the antiquated light switch in my room as if reacquaintance was what I ambulated toward--that we do things that have no rational motive and yet has the absurdem reigning supreme is how the spirit world avails the experential like a trajectory thru the unknown path? Yeah, there was another strange phenomenon occurring to me when I had gotten back from Eastern State Hosp, back in 1993 that either was some side effect from my meds or was me adapting to a solitarian resignation and consigned to differing shadows of mental nomenclature therein. I saw rotating guffaws in my vision as I looked to the mural on the wall of my bedroom. The advancing perhaps nightmarish psychedelia I always imagined from this Escheresque black and yellow wall mural my brother produced was something enjoining me to consume again what the 4 cornered room had on offer: solace, communion, convalescence... My yeahs as being my yeahs, just means that I have to allow that what these weird visions portend are just a manifestation of What-Is! If thoughts feelings and actions are allegory to Higher Ground, then anything emboldening me would indeed be things like these mind sore moments as unsolicited as they are, and truly benign--as nothing advancing disquiet or threatening social imbalances, were resulting. This aphorism in my theme from this narrative is saying, The Spiritual Man is Mad...but madness is relative, and thank G^d for making me mad!