Marble House

I never know when a tune will trigger introspection, but when it does, I become its captive…

There is great appeal in the midnight hour. It begins the most introspective quarter of the day. In this period most lie asleep. In this period I thrive. As of late I haven’t had much opportunity to soak in thought because work does not allow for it, but when I do have the opportunity, I bathe in it.

It is my cleansing. My spirit swells. I am alive; unlike others; alone. My head is my den, comforting, small quarters where only my pets are welcome and only if they lay in silence with distance. I want to be touched by no other living body, so that all energies that go into thought may not be disturbed. In this quiet, the voice begins to surface. In my stillness, I can hear. Truth emerges and I listen: consciousness awakens.

I spend too many hours in a haze. I am lulled into complacency. What else is life? To live consciously is a curse. It is a life pained by the truth of it all. Even the bits of truth, the moments of enlightenment that spark consciousness bring with them too great a burden to bear. I am too weak to act, to obey. My lack of discipline results in walking in and walking out of awareness. One foot in and one foot out, ever the Bodhisattva of enlightenment and not. I would be a martyr if I were worthy. I wish to be alone; I wish to be connected. I am a fool and I languish walking among the common as much as I lose myself in enjoyment of their presence, for they bring levity to all situations for which I am grateful.

I am no one and everyone. I am everything and nothing.

I haven’t known melancholy, as I did, in a long time. At times I miss it. It was such a faithful companion. But I am a poor companion. I wander. I wander in search of freedom. I now only seek the courage to detach, to be brave enough for goodbye.

During my most lucid states I have felt on the verge of true solitude, in thought and action, and felt the fear that accompanied it: to lose the familiar; to give up family; to give up the name given me. I have felt great fear in the awareness of this reality and yet it was the envisioned progression of my life. In my weakness I let go of awareness and chose a return to dullness and attachment to family and identity.

When my fear is lost, I will detach again so that I may continue my path to freedom, when I lose all that anchors me to earth: desire, identity, memory, flesh and bone.

Prayer

“May all living beings throughout the the universe be peaceful, happy and without worry. May they have all their suffering and obstructions be swept away without exception…”

On Forgiveness

Pinkola-Estes

You tend to feel sorrow over the circumstances instead
of rage, you tend to feel sorry for the person rather than
angry with him. You tend to have nothing left to remember
to say about it all. You understand the suffering that drove
the offense to begin with. You are not waiting for anything.
You are not wanting anything. There is no lariat snare around
your ankle stretching from way back there to here. You are
free to go. It may not have turned out to be a happily ever
after, but most certainly there is now a fresh Once upon
a time waiting for you from this day forward.

Lewis Smedes

You will know that forgiveness has begun when you recall those who hurt you and feel the power to wish them well.

Marianne Williamson

Forgiveness does not mean that we suppress anger; forgiveness means that we have asked for a miracle: the ability to see through mistakes that someone has made to the truth that lies in all of our hearts. Forgiveness is not always easy. At times, it feels more painful than the wound we suffered, to forgive the one that inflicted it. And yet, there is no peace without forgiveness. Attack thoughts towards others are attack thoughts towards ourselves. The first step in forgiveness is the willingness to forgive.

Earl of Chesterfield

Little vicious minds abound with anger and revenge and are incapable of feeling the pleasure of forgiving their enemies.

Epictetus

Forgiveness is better than revenge, for forgiveness is the sign of a gentle nature, but revenge is the sign of a savage nature.

George Herbert

He that cannot forgive others, breaks the bridge over which
he himself must pass if he would ever reach heaven;
for everyone has need to be forgiven.

Martin Luther King

Forgiveness is not an occasional act. It is a permanent attitude.

Henri Nouwen

It is freeing to become aware that we do not have to be victims of our past
and can learn new ways of responding. But there is a step beyond
this recognition… It is the step of forgiveness. Forgiveness is love
practiced among people who love poorly. It sets us free without
wanting anything in return.

~

I can’t put a price on the healing I’ve experienced, that has resulted in abounding joy and peace, inducing a levity that is not without substance. I am mindful and grateful for all I have the fortune to touch. Or that touches me. I realize that healing must be maintained. To sustain myself, I must remain mindful. To be mindful, I must return to what heals me. I must meditate and feed on the sources that provide my well-being. And to not deplete my sources, I must give back. When I give back, I feel whole, participating in a system of the highest virtue–a system that acts to resolve, repair, and reinvigorate all that it touches, producing

Life,

A life I want to live. I am blessed.

“God Hates Fags” vs. Congregation Beth Elohim Brooklyn+tangenting

Contemplate and meditate on the words “civil rights”. Break them apart, put them together, delve into meaning and origin and evolution in conceptualisation through the ages and you may find yourself rethinking what is right and what is wrong regarding your own belief system. Self-critique can be hard for those who do not practice it often. Critique of the collective is difficult from within when you’re afraid to question, but without it, progress is inert.

We aspire to reach a point of stasis that will never come. Some of us dream up “paradise”, “heaven”, “moksha”, “nirvana”, and so on. Some of us realize it cannot be achieved and thus the perpetual ride on the mousewheel is regarded as futile–we are atheists/irreligious. What am I? I’m just a thinker and an observer and living life often juxtaposes my ideals because my ideals are my own and very rarely incorporate the many factors from outside forces. Those factors may alter an outcome. If we cannot fault such outcomes in nature, why fault it in ourselves?  Why not choose to understand why we function as we do rather than create concepts such as “sin” and the act of “sinning”? (I obviously come from a Christian background.)

Instead of being taught how to live freely, we are taught how to enforce boundaries.  The boundaries set forth by institutions such as religion, government, education, media, economics, and technology.  Freedom, ultimately, cannot be achieved this way.  It is naive to think it ever could.

Those without boundaries are more free than I’ll ever be.  And I deceive myself to hope or dream for freedom when I am not prepared to first knock down the walls I’ve been building since social programming began.  (I am positing walls or boundaries are created socially and presume individuals do not create boundaries for themselves on their own.)

But they’re not just social.  There are elemental walls. Biological walls.  That I, alone, could never cross on my own.  Is this a personal impetus for procreation? Do I care that much? Care enough that I’d be willing to start a line sharing my own DNA so that I may, eventually, have something to do with a species more evolved than my own?

We don’t really think like this before acting, do we? What kind of inner dialogue is going on within the mind of a man before he slips his manrod into his hot, tight, and slick orifice of choice?  Or a woman who’s about to place her mouth on her sex of choice?  Or before lips meet. Is the line from departure to arrival straight, curved, jagged? Is it alegro, andante, or adagio? Does it crescendo and/or decrescendo?  And upon meeting, do you linger? Are your kisses staccato or legato? Are the movements of your hands musical in conjunction to the lift and fall of your lover’s bosom or hips.  Do you bend with the arch of her back or the thrust of his groin?

Are you fluid or solid? Do you expand to fill the shape and volume of your container?

I wish US culture was more comfortable with dance.  More than just the vulgar movements in common clubs or the rigidity that comes with years of formal education.  To learn to communicate or express ourselves physically without the need of spoken language.  To be fluent in the language of movement seems scarce, but precious.  I am envious of the  cultures that can come together in dance and celebration at complete ease because it is ritual.

Not all music is dance-friendly, of course. But, movement can still occur.  Just in another…dialect?

I meditate too much.