Life’s Blood

Thinking is like a two-edged blade
It can be a very useful tool
But once we have picked it up
We must acknowledge that sooner or later it will cut us
Today there are many people who are bleeding to death from self-inflicted wounds
But they are so used to this blade
They can’t put it down
And go on using it trying to solve every problem
All the time cutting deeper
Into their own life’s blood

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Misery, no misery

Stop looking for answers elsewhere. Abide in your misery, if that be your lot, and see at its heart that it is not misery at all, but something glorious, something ordained by no one, but wonderful all the same.

Now to Now

Time, what’s the deal with time? When we fall into the mindset of what could have, or might yet be, we fall into the trap of time. The trap where free spirits such as we mess up our lives, doing somehow worse than we should have done. With the weight of terrible responsibility we criticise our actions in hindsight, we castigate the judgement of others, being different to our own. We reject those things in the world, and in ourselves, which do not correspond to our favoured view. We add 2 and 2 and come up with 7, we acknowledge only that which reinforces the thoughts we want, or fear, to believe. We take the ghost in the machine and torture him, we tear her apart for all the ills we find. It’s my fault, it’s her fault, it’s all gone wrong; life’s not what it’s supposed to be. As if it needs our say so! And all because we believe our story through time. I once was there, now here I am, maybe one day soon life will be better. We dream of heaven and make ourselves a home in hell.

The only answers we will ever find are happening now. That pain, those tears, that sweet regret. That joy, that fear, those anxious butterflies of anticipation. These are all the answers we’ll ever need, for what is – is, and are all that is required. There is no ideal state, no better solution than the one we have right now. So chill, so kick back, or maybe scream and shout. If it’s there it’s needed, no better way could be found for this bright life to find its way, from here to here, from now to now.

Focus

We are whatever we are focussed on.

The Scales of Worth

House of mirrors this-
Glowing screen with drumbeat fingers,
Tapping of their own accord,
This life that’s not my own,
Nothing but this need to write
and be read-
Loved, revered, talked of
In blogs the other side of the world,
Across the mirrored hall of my mind,
This reflected light;
Refracted thoughts,
Nothing but a mote of dust,
To weigh the scales of worth.

Evil, no-evil

Night swallows day,
Sight fails in the inky shroud of black,
Knowledge withers and logic stumbles,
Imagination is tunneled down negative spirals;
A cave full of shadows,
Nothing is real but everything is a threat,
Leaking out on a world turned grey,
The core is poisoned,
The well springs empty,
Coughing, spluttering the seeker is lost,
A deep marsh of melancholy
For boots over-brimming with bitterness,
Hands seek to clutch and fists to lash
At the cruelty of life,
Suffocation – no air to breathe,
No possibilities in a world shrunk to a point.
Then comes the lightning strike-
Instant illumination!
If all is lost then only growth remains,
A new horizon spreading wings by the second,
Through parting clouds the moon shines bright,
A mirror to the soul long lost but un-tattered,
Sails filling up with sudden hope,
Lungs that breathe again like billows to the wind,
Hands no longer grasping round their own throat,
The noose falls away,
Evil recedes,
Thought and emotion tip back the scales of balance,
Imagination is freed and fingers stroke through long grass,
The mountain air clears the fog of war,
Above the stars, oh so many stars,
The spiral path loops ever upwards,
Day is born.
 
 
 

Western thought divides night from day, beautiful from ugly and good from evil. Evil is assigned to the dark; to that which we reject in society and ourselves. We lock away in jail those we judge to be evil, and lock away in our unconscious those parts of ourselves we are ashamed of. But any process of growth must shine the light of awareness into every dark nook and cranny, every shadowed corner full of the pale shapes of our shame and inadequacy. Many people spend their life trying to cover this up, to strengthen the mask, but always their nemesis is there to undo with wrong all they do with right.

In the East of the past evil was more rationally looked at as faulty thinking. This compassionate view saw the criminal as someone whose path through life has not taught him the lessons he needed to be good. His role models were men who tried to survive in any way they could, and so such a man he also became. The desperate, the weak, the afraid will always lash out. In this way we are no different from the dog that has been mistreated and mistrained by its owner. Chained to a lonely corner without discipline, without exercise, without love, it barks and snaps at any and all who pass by.

This does not mean we should open the prisons, that we should allow the street thug to attack us with impunity. To apply what we have learned about evil on others would be like the man who cast the stone before first freeing himself of sin. We must look within to explore the dark depths of our own minds, to bring light to the evil, the faulty thinking in ourselves. This is the only path that leads to stability, to strength, to a way of life that takes from its follower any need to lash out to prove himself to others. To fix the world, we must fix ourselves.

The Spiral

The Spiral winds inwards

Towards total focus,

The eye of the storm is moving

Fast or slowly,

Heavy or light,

Can you stay with it?

Feelings, thought, intuition and sensing

Feeling is…

Geese hooting at the moon over water,

The gentle lap of waves on the shore

Thinking is…

Tilting scales on creaking chain,

Not a grain of sand is lost

Intuition is…

Sparks that fly from the fireside,

Eyes that stray to the stars

Sensing is…

Soil under feet,

Loamy taste of earth on fingers

My own truth

I live in confusion,
My body stretched out under sun and reed bank,
The river lapping my feet and the wind lapping my unbuttoned shirt,
A girl lies with me laughing,
And her voice plays out across the cloud dotted sky,
I live in confusion, it has always been this way,
And yet I am free,
Let history judge and condemn me,
For never finding the truth,
For jumping like a minnow above the surface,
And never dipping deep,
But listen to her laugh,
Playing out across the cloud dotted sky,
And tell me I am wrong.
This is my own truth.

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