Unquotables

Unquotable Quotes #31

If Time is an illusion, then so is Space – simply another frame through which we view our existence. The language of Space involves distance and separation. But there is no more Distance between “us” than there is Time between breaths. Or deaths…

Empathy makes us Al(l)-One

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Essay, Reflections

Surrender…?

I know it seems counter-intuitive, but sometimes you have to lose big before you can win. Sometimes you have to let go before you can move forward. And sometimes, you have to surrender before you can be empowered.

I learned that mostly through getting sober in a 12 step group. Being a stubborn lass, I often push myself well beyond my limits, convinced that “if I give up now, I will never get back in the game.” And too often, that has proven to be true.

But there occasionally comes a time when I know I can’t continue, when there is simply not enough left in the tanks or the reserves to carry on. There are times when the battle, for survival or supremacy, simply isn’t worth it anymore. And times when even my wild imagination cannot fantasize a happy outcome, no matter how bizarre and impossible I allow the parameters for “success” to become. The question is knowing when that is…

Hello, Time, my ever present nemesis…”

Because letting go of something that isn’t working (at the right time) may ennable you to notice opportunities you would otherwise have missed; aka the other door or window that appears in the vacuum. Or it may allow you to accept help, whether it comes from other people, some Divine influence, or a quirk of fate. It certainly forces you to re-evaluate your place and your priorities, perhaps leading you to more realistic and attainable victories. Such re-orientation brings new strength to bear in the struggle, new hope, new goals to pursue. It reinvigorates the life you are presently living, however diminished that might be from the one you were pursuing…

But giving up too soon is a cop out, a failure, a loss of momentum; it makes you a quitter, rather than a winner, no matter how successful your “lesser” life becomes. Surrendering too early makes you weaker rather than stronger, presenting as a failure of will rather than an unwinnable contest. It creates a sand pit, a muckhole full of regret and “what if’s” hungry to suck you in at your first hesitation during any subsequent efforts. It is a loss from which you never truly recover…

So, how do you know where that line is? How do you figure out the timing of any surrender? Do you just push on, bruised and broken, until your only coherent thought is “enough, already!”? Or do you push on after that, preferring to err on the side of trying too hard, rather than quitting too soon? Do you literally press on until death drops you while still in harness? (Romantic thought, yes, but unrealistic, as the body usually stops functioning well before death actually comes to claim it.)

I was watching a show the other day, some apolcalyptic, end of the world scenario, where different factions fought about the best way to save the world. And as those “in power” argued amongst themselves trying to one-up each other, a doomsday cult grew up among the common people. The common folk accepted the inevitable end of humanity, seeking love and comfort from each other, while dreaming of how some other form of life (better than the plague that humans have become) would one day rise up to take our place.

Sound familiar?…

But then some renegade science geeks found a way to possibly save humanity, risking all to fight against the powers that be to achieve their vision of possible survival. And just when it seemed they might have succeeded, against all odds, the doomsday cult interceded with an act of terrorism to destroy that fragile hope, and the miracle device they built. Apparently, having accepted the inevitable end, having properly surrendered and found peace, they could not now accept that such an end might not occur. And so they acted out to make sure it would…

Have we, as a species (the masses, not the elites), surrendered our “power” too soon?

That’s the question haunting me today. For I believe I have accepted that humanity, or society anyway (as it is currently structured), is doomed; it simply cannot be saved. Nor do I believe it should be. Too much damage done over too many centuries, too many repeated failures and mistakes, too much proof that “good” can never truly triumph over the “evil” that rules. So, like many others, I wait for the inevitable end, the collapse of society as we know it.

But that end never seems to come, does it?

I mean, all the indicators are there – climate change, mass extinctions, vastly disproportionate allocation of resources, constant discord, increasing violence, an absolute refusal by those in power to change course, and an inability for the common folk to make them. Doomsday cults are a dime a dozen, and the major religions all seem to be preaching “end of days” scenarios. Countless apocalyptic dates have come (and passed), and more are predicted ahead. Most people seem to agree the “end is coming”; it’s really just a matter of when…

And yet…

And yet we keep on keeping on, limping through each day crippled but not dead. Individuals and entire species die off, while new individuals are born and live. Microscopic life forms are thriving (at the expense of others, of course). The sun rises each day on a planet more polluted than the day before. The moon transits through her phases, bearing witness to growing sorrows. But life, and more importantly here, society, continues. Why?!

I believed people who said the economy would collapse. I believed those who said humanity would turn on and destroy itself. But it hasn’t happened. Yet. And that’s a problem for someone like me. Why?

Because every day is a struggle. Because I want nothing more than to lay down my “coping tools” and give up. And I suspect I’m not the only one. But we can’t do that. Not really. Because if we give up too soon, we will only increase our suffering, but not speed up our relief. We won’t die, at least not right away. And while we wait for that, we will lose everything we are barely holding onto now.

I, personally, don’t like how it feels to be homeless and hungry. I’ve been there (long ago), when I was stronger and more physically capable, but I was still miserable. I can’t even fathom going through that now! So I continue to drag myself to work, day after day, juggling bills I can’t actually pay off, waiting expectantly for the day when these struggles become meaningless. But that day never actually comes…

I watch people I love struggle the same way, knowing how little I can do to actually alleviate their pain, because I have none of the resources that might actually help them. And I know they feel the same. I’m starting to feel just a tad bit envious of every death I learn about, knowing they, at least, have escaped. It’s getting to the point where I’m no longer sure if the “grief” I experience, the tears I cry, are to honor those who’ve passed, or to lament the fact that I haven’t!

And those doomsday predictors have all had to “walk back” their predictions, claiming now that we will not pass from this place with a boom and a flash, but with a whimper and a slow rotting away. Maybe in my lifetime, or maybe three generations away! The end, however inevitable it may seem, is not necessarily imminent…

“Time, my old enemy, you have a wicked and cruel sense of humor!”

Is giving up even an option anymore? Is there any chance that surrender could hasten the end of this war? It doesn’t seem that way to me, but perhaps I’m missing something here. Please feel free to enlighten me…

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Poetry, Reflections

“A Body Without Boundaries…”

A body without boundaries

an existence without end

bleeding through and exploring

a variety of dimensions.

Meditation leads to dozing

and dozing to dreams;

dreams roll over again

into conscious reality.

But there is little to distinguish

these separate states of Being

other than the transitions

time spent in between…

Where Change is

the only noticeable Constant

the movement, the action

passive seeming dynamic.

Reaching out to Others

merging and blending

influence wrought not through force

but adapting.

And suddenly I know

why the walls were so solid

the ego so strong

the identity so crucial:

for Water without boundaries

is a much muted force

no strength to blast obstacles

and so easily absorbed.

Soaking in unobtrusively

embracing, becoming

One experiencing An’Other

defining Entanglement.

Until no boundary exists

empathy in its truest sense

with only a tingling and a feeling

in the transitions between.

Is this then the goal?

To be vague like a ghost?

Misty mornings, and rings around moons

shapeshifting clouds in midsummer blues?

No limits, no forms

no lofty hopes;

just being, in this moment

nebula adrift in the cosmos…?

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Dreams, Reflections

The Labyrinth

Trapped in the labyrinth in last night’s dreams

being tested, repeatedly.

All different scenarios, but with the same goals:

to get me to own my own shit.

I tried to engage the people I met

to recruit them toward helping me.

But every one turned their backs on me…

After all… it wasn’t their shit!

The “answer” was always the same –

some version of “letting go”

or “moving on”

and leaving them on their own…

Until every twist and turn within

became almost predictable.

With me saying, “yep, yep, yep…”

And starting to speed up my steps.

One of the advantages, I suppose

of so many years getting to know

My self…

And then I woke, relieved at first

that the tests were temporarily shelved.

Only to roll out of bed to intense physical pain,

brought on by the questionable weather?

“What the hell is this about?!,”

I thought to ask myself.

“So much progress made today,

and this is the thanks I get?!”

***

So much I’ve learned in lifetimes here, but one truth remains elusive: how to find real relief living in a 3D shell residing in a 3D hell…

I mean, truthfully, every day here is like every other, as predictable as the dream itself. I wake, quite often feeling physical pain, just to prove it’s not a dream. Drink coffee. Clean myself (maybe) or have breakfast (maybe), but those are the only variables with which to play. Dress myself and head to work, to “earn” my way in this world…

Then it’s off to visit friends sometimes, or maybe a trip to the store, to buy those necessities a 3D body requires (like coffee, and food, and clothes). Then home (at last!) to see my cat, who’s waiting eagerly for his treats. More coffee, and a chance to sit (finally!), to catch up on some emails, read some blogs, or maybe watch tv…

Until I’m sleeping where I sit, struggling to stay awake. Why? I have no real idea. Maybe because to sleep resets the day, so I can go through it all again…

And once a week work offers me a check, a “thank you for showing up” gesture that I appreciate. So one night a week includes a trip to the bank, to put my UOMe into a talking machine. But there is nothing owed to me, when all the math is done, as I am just a temporary holding station. For two days later, I guarantee, I’ll be on the internet, paying bills, all honestly owed. And my IOThem’s are always more than UOMe’s, you know.

So it’s back up for another day, another round of all this stuff. And I can find no real escape! Trapped here in this vicious cycle, monotony day by day. Predictable as the labyrinth within my dream, but without a clear path to follow. Not even the offer of a dead end path, down which I might willingly wander. If only for the change of pace…

My mind is free to wander, of course, and it very often does. But the body remains trapped here, unable to “move on.” And while I realize that I have much here to be grateful for, and perhaps more than I deserve, the truth that haunts the background here is, “who wants to live in a cage?”

***

“Why is this?! It makes no rational sense!,” I scream in my frustration.

“There is no logical, reasonable, spiritual explanation that even remotely justifies it!”

For if reality is my own creation (and I believe it is),

and if I am capable of manifesting miracles here (which I believe I’ve done),

then there is no way I should be physically trapped here in this place!

The body is just a vessel, nothing more, nothing less. Is there any wonder why I’m often self-destructive? I know I’ve earned every pain, every ache, with the bad decisions I’ve made. But seriously, self, this is the worst “joke” I’ve ever played upon myself!

And no, I’m not looking for outside help or explanations here; I “get” what the labyrinth expects: my shit, my problem, my dilemma to work out. I’m only writing here to record the steps I’ve taken, leaving breadcrumbs to mark my way. Taking note of all the other scratches, marks, and indicators of the many times I’ve passed this way. This one part of the puzzle has me stymied, to be sure, but I’m certain (absolutely certain!) that there must be a way!

Every other test I’ve faced has involved letting go, or moving on, so how do they apply? Other than the obvious which would be to simply die? But even that solution is not available to me, at least not at this time. But with time now proven to be irrelevant…

“Damn! And I’m right back where I started!” Once again…

And the labyrinth chalks up yet another win…

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Reflections

Come-Uppance…

In my self-empowered beliefs, I laid down ultimatums. And deadlines. And requirements of any proofs purporting to lead to truth. And the Universe just laughed at me.

At my arrogance and greed…

Time simply dissolved around me, like a bad joke. For it was never meant to construct reality, merely to frame it so that it would be easier to perceive. In the moment. The priceless, precious experience of Now.

And sitting here in my safety net, watching the world deconstruct in front of me, I see. I see how much of what I’ve accomplished is a mockery of All-That-Is. Viewing All with dispassion, but not a total lack of empathy. For there is feeling here as well…

There is validation for the seeking that led me here, a knowing that, though misguided occasionally, my momentum and direction carried the day…

There is embarrasment, even shame, in watching others flounder on their misguided way. I shouldn’t be enjoying this, and yet I am. “I told you so…,” teeters on the edge of my lips, and only the discipline of many regrets prevents them from tumbling out.

There is awareness of how my greatest gift – time magic – is nothing more than fallacy. A wasted effort, and useless in the ever-present Now.

Yet there is strength in embracing who I am. All of me! In wisdom and in love. For I am all that and nothing more, and there is peace in accepting that…

I am Here Now. I am space and time combined. I am the weaving and the thread, and the pattern thus designed. And I am also the loom upon which All This is created. And the chaos that unravels it…

This is my legacy…

My Truth…

My come-uppance…

And I can only laugh!

Hysterically…

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Poetry

“The Hourglass…”

The hourglass is flipped

a new period begins

with all the promise and excitement

that such newness always brings…

The sand starts to fall

immediately

a little pile forming

in the space known as “potential”…

[WAIT! I’m not ready yet!]

The pile grows taller and broader

spreading out

claiming most of the floor

of its newest glass home…

Like a disease of spirit

an imminent threat

“Hurry up!,” it warns me

“before you get swallowed…”

[WAIT! I’m not ready yet!]

But Time waits for no one

not even me

Racing always forward

like a river to the sea…

Slipping through our fingers

restricted only by the neck

No respect for age, nor wisdom

only temporarily controlled by glass…

[STOP!!! JUST STOP!!! I’VE HAD ENOUGH!]

And so it does…

Staring at the hourglass, watching the sand

one grain at a time, to see where they land…

They fall in formation, drawing loose patterns

Designs lost when the others reach out and then cover…

But I see them falling now, grain by soft grain

creating a wave of abrasives

to obliterate what I’ve seen…

[You may continue; I’m ready now…]

The sands resume falling

regaining their pace

Rapidly filling

that formerly empty space…

Potential takes shape now

a dune spread at the base

a pyramid built

of patterns stacked on promises…

And I’ve taken a stance now

I’ve made myself clear:

I will NOT be erased

now that my time is here!

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Poetry, Reflections

“On Being Called…”

I hear a distant sound,

faint and unidentifiable.

Light water babbling in a distant brook,

or birds serenading beloved oaks.

I feel a sound, deep in my chest,

existing far beyond me.

A rhythm of a different heart…

A gathering of drums…

I see a sound far off on the horizon,

shimmering and indistinct.

Like stardust on a sunny day,

or moonlight on a distant wave.

I smell a sound that doesn’t fit,

a passing scent, a simple whiff.

Like woodsmoke from a mile distant,

or night blooming flowers lost in darkness.

I taste a sound, both bitter and sweet,

teasing my tongue with its familiarity.

A hint of lavender and vanilla

with just the right touch of citrus mixed in…

Overwhelmed my senses be by something

neither I nor others can truly see.

Being called to distant places (or times),

being called to my discovery…

*** *** ***

So long, folks, for a little while at least, for I am being called away. Don’t know how long I’ll be “gone” this time, but I’m sure I’ll be back this way. I tried to resist, staying grounded, staying “home”. But the answers I seek simply aren’t here anymore.

So don’t feel forgotten, don’t feel ignored, for I’ve done neither of those things. Unless, of course, you prefer it that way; then, by all means, carry on! 😀

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