Longly

Words are powerful, often too powerful, but they are only words. Lately, when I think of words, I think of everything that man has attempted to shape after himself. When I think of man shaping and creating objects and things after himself, I think of God creating man in His image. Now, God is only a word, but the idea which the word "God" represents is much greater than any word could summit. Summit isn't the "right" word, but it will suffice. A summit, being the highest peak, couldn't begin to describe God anyway. God is beyond the summit, tramontane. God is also nearer than most choose to comprehend. I choose to believe that God is in all of us, works through all of us, is all of us. God created many men, these many men wrote about the one God and created the Gods. They've painted His face gold, white, black, yellow, brown, orange, green, and blue. It's fair to say that God is every color, too. It's fair to say that what a man lacks, his God lacks, but what a man is willing to gain, his God always reveals that which was hidden behind the illusion of lack. We already have what we need. Everything is obtainable through understanding, or at least, the abstraction of the idea which the word "understanding" describes. These are basic principles, the laws of man in his primitive state; alive. Once understanding is expanded, possibilities are unlimited, as long as you understand the idea of unlimited possibilities. This is thinking without limitations. This is the mind doing what it's supposed to do. The mind is. The body is. The spirit is. Together, we are.

Anyway, I had a bad dream last night. Well, a dream. It's wasn't bad. It was unusually honest and clear. At the same time extremely improbable, at least on some topics. A sinking feeling is left in my chest. Like sinking into a blue sadness, pale clouds to shroud my eyes from everything around me, and a gentle breeze. I'm different... it's now more and more apparent. I'm not like the everyday Joe. I'm a feeling, sensing, perceptive, introverted person. My understanding of this is growing. My concentration is steadily becoming stronger, thus I must be more cautious with my thoughts. Being more present, producing Alpha waves, working on that inner narrative, all beneficial to my being. Benefits are the spice of life. I am receiving all of this, and I am grateful, however I understand that this time and every time is a time to give. I must give more. There is a cycle to life, input and output. It's basic calculus, which I have no understanding of.

I feel defeated by a dream.
What a weapon honesty wields, so long a God is our shield, we shall remain protected.

Defeat is a poor choice of word. I feel exhausted! My mind ran a marathon of emotions. I am full of doubts, worry, anxiety, and fear. My understanding of this allows me accept this reality, and to reshape this into something beneficial. I benefit from understanding. I grow from the inside out.

Speaking of growing...

While tending to the soil 'neath Christy's watch
I began to think about my mind
the weeds had grown from seed in soil
she employed me here to reap the toil

The Earth was wet, and cold, and thick
my hands were slow, and Christy's quick
The spade was dull, old, and worn
A show of strength, the ground was torn

Cursing at me with a Mothers eyes
her gray hair wrapped in rubber ties
she wore a hat to shield the Sun
and spoke to me, her wayward son

In loudened speak, called me a colt
who's legs were weak and spirit broke
Praised me for a few improvements
then cracked sharp whips out from her two lips

I thought that day about my mind
the treasures sought, though longly blind
are just in reach, and to extend the hand
expands the soul, the mind, and the man

If feels like...

Stress in the flesh. Stress, breathing, heart-beating, feeding right beside me, chowing down on sympathy, using toothpicks in its teeth to fling at pity at me, grows, like a well-fed boy, into a man. Stress, along with me, has grown continually, and continues to be. Me? I like stress. I don't love it, but I like it enough that I keep it around. My tolerance has undergone impressive feats, all the while my blood pressure has risen with the cost and consumption of fine meats (and cheap cheeses). I used to wear my heart on my sleeve, what ever that meant, until stress advised me to dress warmly, and to tuck in any and all exposed organs. "Thanks friend." Stress and I are old pals, but I never really knew it's name. Stress tends to shift shapes, and depends on me to make up the names. It doesn't know I'm writing this so, shh... keep this quiet. If it finds out that I took time out of my day to write about "little ol' stress" (its words) then I will never hear the end of it, and stress knows I don't like to be stressed out. Stress feels really bad when it stresses me out. It, in it's warm gaze, looks over with watery eyes, and pats me gently on my back and says in a deep and goofy sound, "IT'LL BE OK. YOU JUST GOTTA TOUGH IT OUT." (stress hasn't found its inside voice, yet). "Thanks, stress." I say. "You really know just what to say." I carry on, eating peanuts, or some salty snack, when stress approaches me and says "YOU REALLY SHOULDN'T EAT THAT YOU KNOW. THE SODIUM IS REALLY BAD FOR YOU. DID YOU JUST PAY $7:48 FOR THAT?" "Stress.." I say. "It's OK to have sodium every once in a while, I just gotta be moderate. And you already know how much I spent on this.. you saw me buy it, and you just said the exact price." Stress becomes uncomfortable and boasts "YOU'RE GOING TO KILL YOURSELF IF YOU KEEP EATING THOSE!" At this point stress is as unreasonable as an autistic child. "Dude.." I interject. "Calm down. You're going on about all this, but really.. it's not that big of a deal." "BUT IT'S..." "No.. It's not a big deal. Don't you remember all that stuff we read the other night? About mind over matter? About how we are the Universe, and the Universe is us, and we can benefit from all this?" 

"WELL TO ME IT WAS A BIT UNCLEAR. BECAUSE I ALWAYS THOUGHT THAT GOD WAS.." "God is..." 

"I ALWAYS THAT GOD IS WATCHING US."

"God is watching us, through us." 

"OH"

"God is also speaking to us, through us. Stress, you and I have a lot of issues, we can work them out if we stay positive and if we truly believe things can be different." 

"I HEARD THAT IF YOU EAT ENOUGH CHEESE YOU CAN GET..."

 "Stop for a second! Listen.. We can overcome all of this. We are overcoming it as we speak. Stress, you talk a lot, but do you ever listen?" Stress's eyes drooped like the dark hued blanket that follows the sunset. "Look, I'm not trying to stress you out.." It shook its head with a guilty smirk. "But, I want to get better. I need to get better! I want you around, but we have to make some changes. ...like when you come around. If you help me make these changes. We can both benefit." I felt I was making a breakthrough. It seemed to ease up, it changed colors from Orange to Blue, and sank into a slump. "See. Everything will be fine. We just gotta believe!" I smiled and lifted my fist as if to cheer. It did not move, it was thinking about something. I spoke softly, "What is it, bud?" It quickly turned to me and asked "CAN WE GO TO IN 'N OUT?" 

Without A Concept 7/20/2012

It falls freely yet, if not properly executed will remain suspended in mid air. In this state, it is without form. It reaches without arms. It walks without legs. It grows into something smaller. Finally until it disappears. Here, it is not worthless. It is worthwhile, but what is the while worth? A while is an undocumented amount of time. It is money without a dollar sign. If time is indeed money, how much is a while worth? How long does a while last? When does a while happen? Everyone once in a while..
Here, in it's worthless-while state it is not alone. It has many friends. Each one different, but each one the same. Everyone is socializing. Shaking each other without hands. Speaking without mouths. Fighting somehow. “Where am I?” It might ask, but I'm sure it does not have a self. There is no I here. There is no you either. Only forms freely falling suspended in a state disappeared. It's a party. Have fun. Sip without lips. Eat with no tongue. Its nonexistent stomach imitating a digestion sequence. “Where am I?” You're in trouble, buddy. You're here. And that means, you're here with me. Me? I'm trouble. You're inside of me. Yes. You are inside of me. I am inside of me. And I am inside of you. So here we are. I haven't seen you in a while, but you have been here before. “When?” When is nowhere. Where is nothing. How never happened. Fall with me. Sink into a fog. Down where there is no ground. Bury yourself here, in this cloud, beneath your formless feet. Do smell it? Do you? The stink? I can't, I have no nose! I am a liar. I was never here. You were never inside of me. Pervert. Keep your form feeling hands off of me, creep. Then kiss me like I've never been kissed. Kiss me on my invisible lips, hold me by my never beginning hips, thrust something of no value into my stomach, and toss me to the wind. We're here again, me inside of you, you inside of me inside of you. I know what you're thinking with that “mind” of yours. Fear not, I am a liar. I deduce that you be truth. And I like you. You're so... honest. Your formless forms, so... shapeless. You're sexy. You know why I like you? Me neither. But, I can't exist without you. You complete me. You don't complete me like, “u” completes “you.” Rather, you are complete, as honesty tends to be. An honest truth is a whole truth, not a truth full of holes. You are complete. I am in you. I am in-complete. Don't fool yourself. I'm not lonely without you. I can live without you. Without you doesn't deem me incomplete. It deems me as a liar Don't believe me? Leave me. See how far you exist without me. I don't need you, truth. It is “u” that needs “you.” Without truth, I will be a lie. Without a lie, does truth exist? Does a mind, without an “I” continue to think for itself, or does it.. “Stop!” It says. “You're confusing me. In fact, you're confusing us all.” It looks around at the others glaring without eyes. “I don't believe you. No matter when you are. I do believe that I am here. And if that place is true, than some truth is in you. And a lie with a truth is incomplete. You don't want to be here. I can see it your... stuff. So leave. This is a party. It's supposed to be having fun.” The liar slowly begins to fade. A new truth begins to breathe without lungs. The liar, delivering a silent and terrifying scream, screeches “I don't have to listen to you! You don't know what you're talking about. You're a liar! I want to be here!” It and it's company gathered closer around the liar. It had never seen anything like this before, for it had no eyes. The liar, screeching a red scream, cried out for the last time “I don't need you!” A truth was born. It cried not a tear, it felt no pain. It looked around without eyes, and spoke. “Brethren. Here we are. Where are we?” The truth approached it's successor. It extended it's hand-less hand in a welcoming gesture and spoke with a gently fondness. “Brother, of no Mother, without a doubt, we are.” And it stood with the rest, without legs, in a room without walls, in a form without function, in a time of no worth, for a while.








(ask me, and I'll explain this one)