Men and women
complain, they protest.
Write stories,
answer questions from the press.
Organize their work
and carry the torch into the street
pounding out the
rhythm: Give all there's no retreat!
Demanding justice,
with a will to sacrifice so intense
that to deny them
any longer will finally make no sense.
And still there is
no change that lasts. In a matter of a few years everything will be
forgotten and it will be as it was before. One wants to conclude that
man is such a useless animal he cannot actually improve. All his
institutions are as purgatories. What is called for is a purgative
which must be administered from outside their walls. How to
escape...and the purgative...
It's a
hard one to swallow. So hard is it that all who read it blush then
go on to the next teaching so they do not have to understand the hard
one. That means the next generation remains in purgatory. This is
getting old and monotonous. Calls for a change of pitch or a new way
of intoning.
Purgative:
It is not enough to know with certainty;
what
one knows must be so.
It was told in
antiquity a long, long time ago
that the gods cursed
man, not whole anymo.
What does that mean?
And,
What's it got to do
with the soul?
Man, wo man, two of
us roll
in opposite
directions 'round a donut hole.
and since nuthin
else matters we're vicious…
disconnected monkeys
and supersttious druggies
divided in sex and
gender malarky
mad to reconnect;
but too mad to ask Sparky.
Some times dominate
other times be dominated,
whatever, just makes
us more distrusting, frustrated
just to feel whole
for a little while is a lost art
and every time we
are asked, why not go and ask Sparky?
He say: I got no
explanations fer ye
got no solutions to
impart
jus wanna say:
NOTICE
all the ways you
have tried to once again be connected
all point back to
the source which the gods disconnected;
and that's all;
except when you do, think about forgetting to even try to reconnect
because-
we tend to hang
together with people who think like we do, or wethinktheydo
and the joke is that
we do it to form unions who will join in our quest to destroy any and
every thing that is not us and be reconnected by the necessity of
being all there is left and that's a suicide pact combination last
man standing scenario and the punch line goes:
see,
you were whole all the time we were just screwing with ya.
I told
this to set the stage for a finale I hope will enlighten me. The deal
is it takes two to make a deal. The deal goes down because it's a
deal. What is no deal goes not down. Only up. Whenever one person
notices even for a second that each of his connections is connected
to a trillion dollar bash, where all deals lead, that has at its core
a terribly vicious nature that goes with us even when we go as lambs
into a closet alone to pray, doubt falls away- in a one time
understanding manner. All who go to a superior being for a real talk
find a mirror. In the reflection is seen who you have been pretending
to be. So long as you have not a sympathetic rapport with the mirror-
you call it God. Am I now ready to accept that true love is by its
nature bound to reveal truth?...then let it.
I am sitting alone
at home on a Friday afternoon in April, 2016 watching the film
Inception featuring Leonardo Dicaprio wherein a mature female
actress asks a younger one, Do you know what it is like to be a
lover? To be half of a whole? And for the first time in my life I
understand that two, a male and a female, can recognize, not the
other half of themselves, no, that is pure selfish thinking and
loveless...but recognize the other half of a self that is whole
already into which I am included...the other half of what is not
me and never will be me is
more like it. It amounts
to the recognition of the unity of all things. Well, of course, it's
love. Wild, free, untamable
love. Later today, I was
reading a novel and someone wrote that young
men and women are soon used
up in the magnetic field of love where they
really were foolish enough
to enter. Perhaps
the best thing is to be used up in such a way.
I
watched another film a few days later, a love story set in Greece
during World War II. An old man tells his daughter what he thinks
love really is and I had heard it before as well. He declares love is
not the falling in love, the madness of all that. It is, he believes,
what is left after that fades away, which he is certain it must
because it did so for him. To the old man, love is an entwining of
roots of the two people who fell in love so deeply that one cannot
imagine living without the other even absent the madness called being
in love. Sounds
romantic but it is selfish.
I do not buy it. It feels more like the two damaged souls who fell in
and then out of love with each other were so beaten up by the
experience they prefer never to risk it again. So, they decide this
left over
state with roots entwined (me
and not me wrapped together) is
real love. They make promises to
each other they will break.
That is how love first becomes another
four letter word. What
I am left with is the sense that what we complain about really
amounts to the life in purgatory we designed for ourselves after
failing to stay the course of love that grabbed us, chose us, for its
own. Only in wild love is the
haunting loneliness
of isolated self
overcome.
My teacher said
recently that one understands peace first, then one can begin a
practice to understand self. I wondered, How strange. What does he
mean? Does it apply to me or only to the prisoners he speaks to in
jails? He said to them, You need to understand both.
I see
myself,
not me, whole, and it includes equal parts of female and male
vital powder merged into it so deep and complete as to allow for no
other existence except as that. Bye.
