the pelican

once more with feeling

stuff

strange. normal. sane. crazy. all relative, perhaps. only to be defined by comparison. contrast. context.

now, you take something out of context, well that's something only done in the mind, really. pure illusion. mental constructs of what if's and alternative possibilities. something removed from its immediate state of interdependence can only be done in the imagination and even then, even then. well even then there are still an infinite number of links to memory and associations and preconceived definitions and personal meaning and emotions and a full chain of chemical reactions.

my friend tells me last Saturday on our way to the pledge drive, my friend she's very wise, my friend she tells me she says listen you can't just nip desire in the bud by denying it or pretending it doesn't exist. no siree. it's all still there you've just driven it underground.

underneath. stuffed away. underground.

subterranean. buried alive. denied the light of day.

she said my friend said she said she's very wise sometimes my friend she just says stuff and sometimes it makes sense at the time and sometimes it makes more sense later and sometimes it's just sheer and utter stuff she says she says if you force it underground you are only attempting to control the situation through some kind of manipulation.

yes. of course. and here i thought i was trying to be virtuous or something. trying to not think those thoughts. not go there. but my feelings were going there. so it was back to the old head heart disconnect. a brutal surgery of sorts with a terrible success rate for long term mental health.

and so and so and so i say look then how can i go on like this. i tried to nip the bud that was sprouting in my heart, was just so sure it was a weed that could take over the whole garden.

yeah she said but you can't do that.

why why why what about this non-stop re-evaluation process and this sense of everything crumbling around me how do i hold it all together how do i allow myself to feel the full extent of this mid-life meltdown fed-up with things crisis or whatever the heck that's happening these days, to be buffeted about by all that the world has to offer without trying to fix things correct things make things better how can i just let it be and live in a world filled with so much chaos spinning out of control what on earth do i with it and isn't it just going to distract me from other things that i don't seem to be accomplishing appropriately at this point what about what about what about.

well my friend she's very wise sometimes she just says stuff she pulls stuff out of me that even i don't know where i keep it she just says stuff and sometimes she gets right in there and starts squeezing stuff but sometimes she says stuff and its really only her stuff and doesn't really apply to me even though she thinks it does you know but sometimes sometimes she really gets in there and plucks it out of me and holds it up and says ah hah and then there's this moment where i have to decide what to do with what she tells me.

because it needs to remain in its context to understand its relationship to see it for what it is.

too much abstraction too much analysis too many theories twisting and tangling too much second guessing well, then, it is just no longer mere observation but some sort of attempt to manipulate things out of fear of inevitable suffering.

like trying to cover up a bit of stink with some sort of hideous fake floral air freshener.

the dreaded suffering is not avoided.

it merely changes shape.

probably even creates more suffering. hurt. pain. confusion. emotional upheaval.

can not simply detach the head from the body and expect to run a marathon.

can not pull love out of life like a peach pit and stick in a jar and bury it in the backyard. 

once again it all comes down to acceptance.

each time i try to be other than who i am it is an utter disaster. a move away from authenticity. an imbalance that reverberates through all aspects of life. just basic dishonesty, frankly. denial. willful ignorance.

strange. normal. sane. crazy. all relative, perhaps. only to be defined by comparison. contrast. context.

posted by: limine at 14:24 | link | comments (6) |

just trying to focus

yeah it's all a cliche i know but sometimes it feels like i am desperately motion sick on the merry-go-round and i just want it all to stop and other times if is as if i am chasing after it trying to jump on and catch a ride.

feels like a layer has been torn shredded peeled back perhaps a bit prematurely and the exposed bits are sore and raw. tingly and hypersensitive to the breeze.

exhaustion. there is an overwhelming need to sleep. in a dark cave. for a long time.

yet, there is something that compels me to continue looking into it further.

is this analysis or just intellectualization? must it all be rationalized? some brain machinery seems to be working overtime because the pressure gauge is set on "must make sense."

maybe the distance, the attempt to watch from afar is some sort of elaborate avoidance or denial technique. maybe it is a safety precaution. maybe a self-defense mechanism. 

or maybe, maybe this is simply part of the process of attempting to become more aware of what is within perception. to watch it without driving it. to let go of the desire to control the actualization process.

so difficult to see, to fully understand and put into action this idea of letting go of the object of desire, while still being active. a shift in intention.

motivation is almost always based on outcome. the energy to continue fueled by the need to achieve a specific result. to find what is looked for, rather than discover what is.

posted by: limine at 21:07 | link | comments (5) |

sonnet 10

we live for beliefs not understanding

we go forth unknowing despite serpents

or apples ignorance a crash landing

not a fall marches on making statements

language symbolically does the talking

beauty displays to us the art of it

in cosmic hum we’re rolling and rocking

a lover’s embrace feeds the heart of it

yet we age decay and know death is near

grabbing at cloudy meaning as it drifts

on we go forward avoiding the fear

that the truth is never concrete and shifts

we believe in souls that stand debated

living on illusion self-created

 

(posted for IML)

posted by: limine at 00:41 | link | comments (4) |

the first sunday after the first full moon after the equinox

the disciples said to Jesus, "tell us how your end will be."

Jesus said, "have you discovered, then, the beginning, that you look for the end? for where the beginning is, there will the end be. blessed is he who will take his place in the beginning; he will know the end and will not experience death."

~the Nag Hammadi Library

Gospel of Thomas (II,2), (18), translated by Thomas O. Lambdin

posted by: limine at 08:34 | link | comments |

game over

and so the moment has passed. everything has just slip dripped away.

but wasn't it something?

beauty. love. spring's great greening at the edge of a turn.

poured my heart out. laid it all on the line. there was the feeling that everything had led up to this one point in time. destiny sparkled for a minute. i would have done anything everything. so much at stake. high risk. high gamble. an alternative reality. a juncture in the future.

but it was just one beautiful shiny glimmering. one hot bright spark in the darkness.

a fantasy, perhaps. i see that now.

but then, it was the possible.

a threshold.

one brief hope. one soft thought. one movement.

and then the waiting. holding it all together. anticipation. fear. concern.

then the long nothing followed by more nothing.

and then the fear set in. and embarrassment. regret. concern. rationalizations. intellectualizations. duty. guilt. chaos. repercussions. oh there would be the mess. the disorder. fear of the pain. of change. of all that would be lost.

the sheer vulnerability of the moment and the movement of eternal change. a brutal shift. 

the crash of a priceless vase.

but wasn't it something?

that moment that held something that might have been?

to live to feel to breathe to wonder to dream to step out on the edge of the precipice and marvel the sense of awe  flame of desire the possibility of a great shift to save and be saved to be born while giving birth change the course of history ride the waves touch the stars.

still, all things must pass. all is ephemera. there is only so much time.

the moment is gone and there can be no return. we can't step into the same river twice. a leap of faith. an experiment. no guarantees.

attraction and repulsion. creation and destruction.

what was given, what was taken. and what is left.

these tears are only for what i do not want to accept.

time will pass. all is ephemera. it was only a dream.

but wasn't it something?

posted by: limine at 15:29 | link | comments (4) |

road trip

taking time. got a late start. didn't really want to go. wasn't into it. seems sometimes like taking time off and going somewhere is almost more work than it's worth. honestly, what a pain. doesn't change the amount of work to be done, only squishes it up tight under stress into less time.

did the dishes. ran the vacuum. sorted laundry. packed bags. tanked up the car. got snacks and water and extra jackets and mints and hand lotion and maps and books and camera. extra batteries.

more work than it's worth perhaps.

but did it anyway.

did drive.

drive and drive and drive deep into a dark desert night. a million stars. a red sunset. mesas and rolling hills. mountains in the west. van morrison on the stereo. sage brush and grass and cactus and juniper. antelopes grazing munching flying over barbed wire fences. hawks swooping. coyote by the side of the road.

driving south into the night, driving deep into a dark desert night.

a slow meditation, driving through the time portal between here and there. cowboy urban sprawl turns into spaces filled with indian ghosts and pueblos and spanish mexican wild west memories nostalgia previous civilizations culture clash collisions. red clay and smoke and dust and stars.

driving deep in a dark desert night full of longing and desire. longing for things to be other than they are. were. could be. would have been. missed opportunities. mistakes. regrets. choices made. lives lived. what if's. desire. desire. attachment and desire. driving on. consumed with sweet melancholy. just driving on. driving deep into a dark desert night. a million stars. a red sunset.

late arrivals, last ones in for the night. full house in santa fe. tidy little motel space. budget casita adobe enclosed porch french doors and a groovy rainbow bedspread.

late night supper perfect bottle of syrah pecan encrusted ruby red trout and fluffy high piece of sweet tart perfect lemon meringue pie and a glass of port.

driving south. appetite. attachment. desire. driving.

desire so sharp and clear so loud so all encompassing all consuming obsession love desire so fleeting so intoxicating reverberating vibrating driving down the road into the dark desert night.

movement. passing through. passing on. passing by.

driving deep into a dark desert night. a million stars. red sunset. 

driving. 

posted by: limine at 19:17 | link | comments (8) |

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