mother moon spoke to me
she told me it’s brave to do it alone
i said, i know – i love you, mother moon
and moved on through the heartbreak
swaddled in her silver, glowing
with light enough to see by
and echoes in my mind revealing
what a very large space i am
for getting lost in…
it’s a practical thing.
and then, thousands of years of codified maneuvering form the lines of power most amenable to movement along them — and principles of power that coolly excise what works from what doesn’t. Clickety-clack. Zap!
and of course, it seems a natural thing that power amassed, wants only more of itself, like an electro-magnet dragged through the world. And like that magnet, it will hoard itself and guard itself from the sun and the moon and all that rustles and wrests between them.
and so it is that Power sees to draw a cloak about itself, and slips through its own lines in darkness — while the masses who grunt and toil in its name are kept blind, deaf and dumb to it’s way — even unto their nameless graves, as Power swaggers scything through untold aeons of mortal meat and bone.
but as with any charlatan, the innocent can see through the mirrored raimant, and expose the fraud forthwith (along with Aunt Hattie’s warts). They see the masked appetites, and hear the howling from beaked belly. And so their eyes are duly averted, if not gouged, and their minds yoked to the study of the master’s will – while their own will is with terror kept from wandering. Many, even as adults, strive for the carrot ever dangled before them, and fear the lash of the master’s whip at their heels.
funny, that we call this ‘civilization!’
not (eh-hem), out of any sense of noble purpose or action. Nothing so pure!
*rummages, just to be sure…*
actually, it’s because i am utterly helpless to do otherwise, given the nature of the paradox. I mean, the math just cracks me up!
and i understand that i may be alone in appreciating that. But you can’t see me, contorting like silly-putty, trying to find something other than love, in a universe that is defined as consisting of The Unnameable God, which IS Love, and which is Everywhere and knows Everything. At least as defined by the pablum christianity that wantonly exposed itself to me from every dank street-corner of my childhood.
my nascent understanding, after many hours of vastly uninstructed noodling, was that every question seemed to point back to no answer at all. For if something is everything, there is no place to compare this to that. You have to divide it for the mind to be able to work on it. To work the mojo of Words.
puzzling! So any way i twisted and turned that jewel, i came to the same place – a bottleneck that the mind could not seem to negotiate. Because no matter what the question, the answer required wrapping my mind around an Infinite Whole.
which i found to be a sufficiently daunting thing. Quite impossible to manage, through mental device or shenanigan! Of course, it has taken a lifetime so far, to tease THAT from its gordian loops. And i reckon i still have some teasing to go ;-)
infinity is so damned big!
so this life has been an experiment in all the ways of working the strand of an unnameable God, wound into an ineffable Love, through my understanding of a confusingly cruel and divided world. And working it INTO the world, through the often cross-cut currents of the many submerged and contradictory identifications in my calicoed litter of selves.
well – life has certainly a study in the goodly number of ways THAT doesn’t work! Lordy, i could write a book… ha!
that’s one of the reasons that i love Life SO much: Her irrepressible abundance. If i notice myself seeing scarcity, i’ve learned to spin the periscope, for i’m simply not looking in the right direction.
truly, it’s a Very Cool little vehicle we’ve got, here!
of course, if i have to spin the periscope, it’s rarely toward what i actually WANT to see. Otherwise i would already be seeing it. Periscopes are funny like that. Magical. They always look right at what they expect to see ;-)
So prior to my arrival, an invisible hand on an invisible tiller deftly turns my fog-beams away from anything that might even remotely disturb my preferred orientation. The orientation dictated by my deeper substructures of heuristic.
it’s quite the sleight-of-hand-of-the-mind, that flicks me away from the nonsensical truth. Which ironically would explain things FAR better than anything my paltry imagination could conjure. But it is the failure of the imagination that shocks the mind into a new default — hopefully one with a straighter line-of-sight to the stars i WANT to follow!
does anyone out there feel my pain? LOL. I hope so! — because i don’t want to be cracking myself up here for nothing!
the heart is an enigma, like the mind. Both process information, but work in very different ways. Both systems work best when the other is fully operating. Both are fully capable of delusion. It’s a crap-shoot, actually, to say which one is more delusional, on a given day…
they seem to balance one another. Optimally speaking, anyway! In practice, both systems are wobbly, and both are capable of tipping us into an early grave. Like cows.
i guess that’s how boys used to entertain themselves before they invented girls! Oh dreaded girls… Funny!
but that’s ok. Girls tip too.
anyway! The thinking mind works with digitized noises called ‘words.’ It draws them from the well of memory, and projects them onto the blank screen of the future. It has lots of space inside to work out all the variables. Or at least the ones it notices. Which can be a HUGE caveat, since the mind is loathe to see that which it fears it will not be able to manage gracefully.
the heart works by feel — the feeling mind. It can pick up small oscillations in the field of energy surrounding us, like a sea anemone, with long, ultra-sensitive, ultra-reactive feelers. It is capable of discerning what appears to the thinking mind as non-local information. Which can cause the mind to think maybe it can fix the problem by burning the witch, so to speak. For obviously, if she dies, she WAS a witch, right?
you can see how the mind can get us into trouble!
and of course, the ways the heart can get us into trouble are legion. And actually drive our entertainment industry! At least the chick-flicks, so to speak. But really, in a general way, DRAMA is about what goes wrong in the chest-cavity in all the zillion ways it can. So even war can be seen as a problem of the heart, though it can’t take ALL the credit. War is an exercise in delusion on ALL levels of being…
so, in the inner workings of our ordinary insanity, BOTH are equally implicated, and NEITHER are well-understood.
Life sure set us up on this one! Sheez. *turns up the laugh track, weeps in her beer… *
Which is a fine fix! And one which the mind ceaselessly worries, somewhere in the pit of pits, where the belly never quite sits easy…
blind-feeling we are, toward the light, toward the warmth, toward the joy…
we clamber from hell with no glory, no honor, not a shred of dignity, nothing left to our names. We are divest of all human cravings and clingings, for they are as stones in our wakes, ground to dust as we rooted to find succor there. And in turn, we are ground to dust within their muscled coils, as they loop around our dreaming minds and tempt us through all the gates of hell…
because i cannot know you, i must speak to you as i speak to myself, and trust that you will find your way in here, in this holographic theater behind our eyes. Just know that i am on good terms with myself, and thus anyone who chooses to wander with me here, need not fear the darkness we encounter.
for there will be darkness.
of course, there may be limits beyond which we will not venture. But we’ll need to map those out as we go. Too much over-thinking about what lies ahead makes me want to nap! Or swear. Or scream. Or quiver in a petrified startle, depending on which muse tugs my hem.
and so, i do hope that this gristing will yield a richly-roasted, robust and perfectly steaming daily grind — fit for all the kings and paupers that we are, have been, or are yet to become …