Black is not darkness, but shadows of the light — it has never been subject to anything but itself. Its position is determined by its perception. It contains the full spectrum of life. In possessing self it posses its destiny, not by force but placid solitude. It’s origin is itself. power resides where it decides — and still, now is all. The work that needs doing to bring change is always carried out beneath. There is no external power greater than stillness. To change self is to change your world. History is littered with such. Energy confined is a part of mind, the cell is not a jail but where creation is defined. The outer world is a reflection from within. External stride is a fading tide. For even fame, belongs not to celebrity but the crowd. Like fickle fortune and shiny things, all must yield to the dark. You can never possess anything but self – seize that and all else will bowl to it.
The wisdom we gain as life unwinds are the mistakes reclaimed by lessons through time. Nearly sixty five years have passed and I am still intrigued — curious about the nature of things and how they come to be.
What began as the external explorations of a child has matured into the internal inquisition of a well aged man, yet, it is still a life full of wonder. The more I examine my existence, the more excited I feel about the present possibilities, and less afraid to push the boundaries that appear to bind who I am. Many of the beliefs I once held about what is, no longer seem relevant and the desire to live more efficiently has demanded greater simplicity from every area of my being as life ripens. For me, there has never really been any separation between the physical and spiritual. Religion, diet, exercise or training of some sort, have always functioned towards a single purpose — to improve self. Though my ideology and practices have constantly changed, evolved or maybe just revolved, I still find enormous joy, even moments of paradise in the ritual of it all. I am grateful!
Life in every form seeks homeostasis. To hold a state of balance for more than a moment in the mist of dissent is bliss. Beyond the books, the courses, teachings and surface chatter lays the soul — whatever that may be. Self study remains my highest form of education and truth. It is the most worthy of all subjects to be studied. Like most, social construct has left its mark upon my thoughts but for as long as I can remember, it seems my world has inevitably unfolded from within.
There is a deep sense of gratitude that has evaded my grasp, that I am now becoming more acquainted with. The more frequently I am able to access it, the longer I am able to hold it, the more complete I feel. In my own presence there is no shortage and all absence is returned to the present — to see that nothing I once sought exists apart from me, as an independent or self actualized entity. I can not be anything more than what already is, for what I seek, I am already in possession of. To find joy in the whiff of incense, the patterns of smoke afloat the air or dancing motes in a stream of light through a window, in a quiet room, the tailored waves of grain etched upon a hard wood floor, to know that no destiny is predetermined but privately designed, not shaped by society’s shepherds but welded in the workshop of a mind, for this, I am raptured — gratitude undefined
I am thankful for so many things but more than anything, the feeling that comes with understanding, I am already in possession of everything.
mid september, sky diving leaves lay faded and scattered upon battered fields of green abandoned bony branches once arrayed as noticeable in the nude as they are fully dressed
twirl and spin, softly descend to death — and that is life.
in a room from the rear i look upon myself with rapture and i can see the ocean all day smokey waves, and branches that sway.
how does the jay capture the fly in his zig-zag pattern and butter in his eye.
in such times, thought is distraction, conversation empty, the span of a moment transcends time, venues vanish, the breeze of flow, satin winds blow, strumming the trees to the sound of rest as they toss, releasing their grasp of leaves and i hear a whisper, softly beneath it all — hallelujah, Hallelujah!
nature7blog 