"My Memory 'flect" --

It is sometimes easy to imagine an Eastern ethos, his perseverance unto mutant numina to perform this or that task. Habits are things of unadventurous patterns, still-apparitions (unmoving) but for the fluctuating mind putting the mild into esteem. Memory 'flect untimely mental apostasy, long ends of days I couldn't meditate away but for swathes of my contagion.
^^Ok, to struggle or "wrestle" with G^d, striving for G^d the definition for Israel, indicates theology, and to toil with one's theoria as it gets aggrandized thru attachments, and competing almost equally w/ a couple of assumed resolutions, is psychology. This is advancing Elie Wiesel's turn of a few words implying just this. I'm sitting here looking at G^d is not One, and when I want the challenge of its denotation to help me "feel" my way thru another day (I stole these last few words from Box of Rain--good line, anyway)--what I did here is imagine the forking path. A high road and a low road, but rather than choose as if either entail a yawn of distances unto some hidden village, I am as upon the high road & moving INTO experience thus yielding to the stretch of road taking me to some valley by the low road. The high road, yes, we move from here into experience as before us, of course, and stupendous liesure is that that relationship is receiving us gratuitously. To be blunt, if you've ever come across folk in their wasted repose -- they certainly look like they've been pondering in a wake of someplace you had otherwise taken leave, yet here you are & their grasp of you isn't unerring and rather his and her composure is relativity-collapsed in upon itself. Avalokiteshvara won't give you something with which we could dispute that people have small natures, and small comportment to frame any man's insignificance.
^^Nihilism is proscribing belief, just not your own. Is it a visage with no terminus when while on stage the artists hear the cinematic dialect as having been understood by something bigger than his/her praise of song's release? Maybe it can't be an observable release because the muse of philosophical smoke--its irony, is that nothing contains it but its furthest reaches are incalcuable.
^^Love that feeling that I am ready. Plans to get poisoned and alliterative designs is what got me intoxicated. Something figuring prominently--beggar at the vertex of blanched room's wall, the sorrow self is waving direction right as I wonder if I coulda appealed to someone somewhere more nigh. But, I am all heady, serenely eluded from the cloister of mounting apathy--just want that author, that dude who trods proud land. (& Karen Armstrong, how she writes about the Other Shore) T E Lawrence has this guy come home to his betrothed. People in the country-side not knowing him, must be gathering what the writ isn't but positing as I see paths' flight-meet-my-step the way it meets his, and anybody's... He bounds the rectitude of country lane next to their plots--and crosses plots, averred from the common pedestrian: he's familiar, the katharsis is that this land empties of inconveniences - it represents the pug marks to his quarry.
^^Some bunch of hippies--on facecrack--think I am of some evangeline about circumcision. My view is a foment from what-ever has been proximal. I SAID WHATEVER--JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE WITH THEIR BIASES, w/ as many consequences we can be sure. NO ONE ever took me aside said believe this or that --that I'd better off. Frankly no one can take umbrance that he or she has instructed me from the doctrinaire--it wouldn't have been a cause of some loyalty that makes me listen. And this is not a defense of being in a box. By box I mean sought-after jumping off points with a 2000yr context, an arc East furthering the fade of liminal theodicy...anyone can jump from that loam, OR the Ifrikiyya humanities' beginnings, that has festering environs, like I've seen in Egypt, and as life expectancy attests to with human historicity makes my point, circumcision is cleaner, period (if conditions BE DIRE). They ain't outa their box of something "alternative," nor anymore inspired than the apprehension of something tribal that would otherwise consume the "core-culture" imbalance any fucking way. Do you get that? It is stereotyped attitudes to imagine that it is purely warm & fuzzy religiosity to compel me to say that DOING THIS is an OK thing for a parent to choose. Or NOT--and that is fine, too. It isn't my mission that someone come on board and defend this--it is their blindness that the human condition is this big--I am holding my thumb and finger a 1/2inch apart. Anything that smacks of tradition-traduced in their view--is an evasion... these chics aren't getting Otherness, at all. And anyway, the kid has no freudian pathos he can attest to from it, and appearance means nothing...
**I have restraint by liminal imagination--& resignation ...making me feel things in glimpses, but I don't know what I yoke (the yoga sense-control tho' appreciable is usually going untallied). Fucking vulnerable (just now, dude), seeing myself in profiles guessing at the translator face askew. People that would worry the thing that ultimately is the worst for all asunder takes on religious graffitti, and leaves happier moments, more and less self-aware whispers, sad sad days, everything under the preimminent rest of our lives deigned that way IN the world, from this world, precisely is why the worst of it has no god to seek meaning forthwith, and no demiurge to vanquish.
**Our essense is victory over power in its vocabulary of self-inducement: power says, I'm rife with constancy; I'm beheld when the complacent ceases his diminution & accords with fate. Power's language is its propensity to deny being controlled thru symbols, but rather cheap words consort with eternity, and power is the pique of what forever will be said.