Even in the darkest moments of our lives, there lie hidden, often far from sight, cracks in the darkness, openings to joy and light.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Watching, I saw a splendiferous world of majestic mountains crystal streams and emerald forests all whispering their invitation inviting me in
Scrambling to reach out to touch a panther lily devour the scent of pines and drink my fill of a cool flowing crystalline stream rushing down a eroded waterslide carved into ancient stone falling to a tranquil lake in wait
Only I tripped and fell over my still-born inner child lying a congealed motionless mass at my feet
Only movement of the corpse a horideous horridus slithering within the putrefying flesh – a stench on the edge of vomiting
Yet, I see everything as if it were all put together in one masterpiece painted to capture that precise entire moment for all of history
As soon as I crawl into that very same moment it and I are suddenly in two different worlds
There it is – everything we think everything we do already there waiting for us to step through
There we are sitting inside this crystal bubble of now waiting for it shatter becoming then and with freedom to reach beyond the now
In the moment we the unruly are incessantly fighting for control to posses it as if it were ours alone and not us who belong to it
That is us it is who we think our selves to be It is I, it is you, it is them who think it belongs to me
So I sit sit and watch as worlds as magical and full of life as any I have seen explode into existence before my eyes and are unrolled before my feet
I sit and bounce about as if there was no reality other than this game of life a game we create whose rules we define and choose
Choose for this game with every play who wins or loses – only caveat it I who is each player not them
It is I who Can only win it is I who Can only loose
It is then that I know that I am not I so with we me and them
We all just paint in serious colors as if any of it really mattered – even the seriousness has no matter
It is a game like we all played as kids a game we play for fun for pretend as if it were all that was real
Is this so outspoken? To laugh at reality at you and me and them to make jest of life’s living and it’s death to profane the sacred and make sacred the profane?
Is not the making of the playing of the being in the game the game?
Is there not pretentiousness in pretending reality is really real as if real has any meaning other than what we give it to be?
Paint authentic reality with dazzling water colors on a rainy day and perhaps after the storm your canvas will be clear clear to paint a new and more magnificent authenticity
Paint in the rain write words in the shifting windblown sands of the Sahara for therein lies their permanence
Sit in the crystal bubble of sand melted by heat of this moment
There is the wasteland there in the lush green forest of our being
I have always been a searcher, looking for the Holy Grail, philosopher’s stone or ovum anguinum; searching for some hidden secret hidden knowledge which would transform my being into something more worthy than I felt it to be.
I searched, spent years of study of Quantum Mechanics, Physics, Cosmology, and Microbiology. I searched the esoteric writings of enlightened eastern, western mystics and established religions, all to no avail. The truth I sought, was not to be found in this world or the next, it was not anything which could be grasp, held in my hand or given to another.
The closest I have come to seeing truth was to gaze into the eyes of a new born babe. It is this innocent wonder, the light of the Divine Mystery shining out from the soul; which is love, life, and truth.
This Holy Grail is found within, if only I dare to look through the darkness which cloaks it so well and walk quietly, patiently, waiting for those rare moments when the dark clouds part and the light shines, warming the empty coldness which so often engulfs me.