Useless

The moon is nearly full.
The air is crisp. 
The night is still while
We play the role.
The role most easily played, rehearsed from way back.
Purposeless in the long run and comforting in the short.
The voice of a victim.
What the other is and is not. What the other takes and gives not.
Protection through loudly scratchy offense for some and thickened defense for others.
In basketball wisdom, great defense creates greater offense. 
In practical sense, tighten up and fire back.
All in an effort to pacify the fragile child who continues to long for acceptance.
Drama, internal trauma, inflicted wounds to all and every one around who has any perceivable and immediate impact. Who has not fulfilled the so many needs. Who has shared his so heavy a burden. Who brings us down, or places a mirror two inches away from our face. Who speaks unconventionally. Who is many things we do not understand and even more things we do. Afraid to admit. Afraid to own.
Victims are many. Adults are few. 
Sometimes they are lonely. Sometimes they are used.
Love is disarming if comes from a child. 
Because it is pure. Because it's abundant.
The void disappears if touched with one's true being.
The victim dissolves into nothing and tastes a life that's worth living...
 

Seeing Not

I.

He continues to guide me, as I latch on to everything he says just as he tells me to drop what he just gave me. All words, all experiences are road signs, not absolute truths. How difficult to break the need for certainty.  Truman woke up to a beautiful day every single morning, greeting his wife and neighbors in the same manner, eliciting the same response. A familiarity that so easily becomes a comfort zone. Predictability is easy.  I’d prefer to operate via a clear life philosophy, and yet the sunset changes colors every single millisecond, leading to the thinking that there is a clear life philosophy that states there is no philosophy. There is just life. 

II.

I come to him. Or maybe he comes to me. If one observes a particle in a vacuum, the particle changes its behavior. The same song keeps playing daily, and sounds differently each time.  Once a leader, now switches to following while gliding along an unwritten continuum, then returning to leading, tracing the ill-defined path of a spiral. Nothing seems to be clear. Only shades of grey. She says she loves him and so she does. When she is done loving him, all aborts. He plays a small part in the equation, if any. Life events can hardly be traced to the beginning. 

He touches me. Or maybe I’ve touched him. He embraces me. Or maybe I have already embraced him. There is no beginning, or end. Continuous movement and dance between every single particle that changes its behavior with every observation and an ounce of attention. Life within is able to flow according to the surroundings. Love creates a flow of one kind. Anything else creates anything else. 

III.

Switching between light and darkness. Seeing her hell and his heaven. Both created by one catalyst. The one catalyst living in everyone’s perception. A catalyst lost on the road, attempting to follow conflicting road signs. A catalyst who is nothing more than a human-in-training.

In Balance

The more I live, the less I know. Truly.
Conclusion leads to confusion. The latter is more conducive to knowing life, I am told.
Clarity comes slowly and leaves quickly.
Experience is not deep enough. 
Looking to relate. Unable to see the seed.
Filters remain despite the daily scrubbing.
Energy flows out.
The child inside scared.
Perspectives run amok.
I wish to be still and fully aware.
Ability to balance on one leg with the other doing the talking. The silent kind.
It's dark in here. Maybe lighter with another's flashlight. A relationship worth having.
A leads to B and the combination to Z. Beyond that is up to me.
I am looking for the key that unlocks the mystery and exposes the miraculous. 
Clarity comes and remains.
Experience deepens.
Planting the seed.
Filters dissolve.
Energy flows through.
The child inside is alive.
I am alive, still, and fully awake. Truly.

What Life

Moving right along the course of life is profoundly easy in the state of complete exhaustion. It's a wonderfully beautiful position to be in, as the mind's incessant nonsensical monologue slows down by at least 80%, the body seems to have its own agenda, gracing various oases at various stopping points indicated by the hands of the clock, and the energy reaches a point of sweetly relaxed amusement. Suddenly, everything is light, fun, joyful, and is. 

Floating through the day on airy wings, effortless mobility, seeing no rocks or boulders, only streets lined with encouragement, and people parting like that sea. Choices are clear. Conversation flows. Judgement is in deep slumber to a great amazement. No energy wasted on that which is not. And the song of bird doesn't stop. What life. What opportunity. What can be.

Eureka!

The life lived in a pursuit. A constant pursuit to find happiness, to find meaning and purpose. The constant race to find that piece of peace and happiness. We spend all our waking hours looking for that one addiction to give the sense of joy. We keep running and running, changing from a sprint to a jog, and yet the movement never ceases. 

I am here to declare, as my most recent instructor would say, that peace and happiness are the beginning of life. They are not the pursuit of life. Life is wasted on the pursuit of happiness, because it is not something out there that can be fulfilled by someone else or by something that we do. The source of that state of being is within us, originating from energy. It is the pursuit to finding access to that life energy that is necessary for the life to unfold and be fully expressed. 

Once found, once tasted, once it becomes available every moment of our existence, we are in the state of happiness. The chase ends here. Once and for all. Life becomes complete, and it is only now the question of what is needed to be done to improve the surroundings around us. You are no longer important. What you think and need and desire have no meaning, for those states only have power on the way to finding happiness. Their purpose falls off. A new purpose arises and that is how to serve, how to become an offering, how to become a useful tool for change. How to be at the right place at the right time with the right tools available at your fingertips to create beauty. 

Simple. Energy. Happiness. Offering. Life worth living.

The new pursuit is finding the access to that unlimited supply of energy and keeping the flow at all times. Done.

Please

Dripping with beauty. To serve the world. 
Reaching for within. To be an offering.
Searching for the plug-in. To access the source.
Burning with compassion. To light the surroundings.
Placing down the old. To cleanse the road.
Screaming for freedom. To explode the rainbow.
Disposing of the trap. To be the channel.
That drips with compassionate beauty and serves as an offering of rainbow freedom powered by eternal source of clarity.  Always on. Always blazing. Always full. 

Please...

Unimpressed

And I remain unimpressed.
Talk is cheap, I say. Yes, you can keep up the poetry, if it feeds your expression. I am happy to serve that purpose. I am happy to be that vessel. I will be there to receive it. You must know it flows into and out of me, with little impact. I remain unimpressed. Talk is cheaper than dirt. Energy converted into sound, rolling off the tongue like steam off water boiling. Just vapor, dissipating into nothing. I choose not to collect it, for I know it is not I who is complimented. It is my vastness that holds you. It is my vastness into which you crawl. It is the great space that exists within me that pulls you in and begs you to remain. It is because I do not exist that you are able to find respite. I continue to remain unimpressed. Talk is cheaper than cheap. Leaves no impact on that which does not exist while that which is has no need to be complimented. Space simply is. And I am all too aware of it. It is not my doing. It is not my invention. It is not my product. It is there. Revealed. You bathe in it. You bask in it. You are inspired by it. You compliment me, and I continue to stay unimpressed, for you do not know what it is you're complimenting. You just know the effect of it. I prefer an unspoken acknowledgement that carries no weight, no need, or hunger. I will know when it happens, and I will become even smaller, a tiny speck, while the vastness grows infinitely larger, swallowing you whole into ecstasy.

In Search Of

In search of...

She and he. They. Are in search of. Answers. Knowledge. Understanding. 
Connecting. All dots. Adding. The bigger web. Of beauty. Or a trap.
There is. No end. To be seen. It is. Imagined. Concrete. Melting. Into fluid. Into air. Into imperceptible. 
The imperceptible. 
Entering. New realms. Again. New. Territory. Immeasurable. 
The need. To know. Remains. Stumped. Leaving the familiar. Throwing. Pots and pans. Then hands. Into the infinite. Bowing down. In awe. In surrender. Offering. Oneself. Wholly. Unconditionally. As there is nothing else. Nothing else. Nothing.

Conditions

Conditions.

I remember a very astute professor making an observation about human nature. While in elementary school, we are assigned seats in the classroom, as we fight and rebel that regulation. We do not like to have boundaries drawn around us by someone else. By the time we finish college, we willingly sit in the same seat day in and day out. Not only do we not resist that same seat, we welcome the safety and comfort of the all-familiar environment. We draw our own boundaries, while rejoicing in our freedom to do as we please. Except there is no freedom in the unconscious behavior. It is only the illusion of it.

The boundaries extend beyond the borders of the physicality. We certainly may put our bodies in the same seat on a daily basis. That may be just fine. I am more interested in the boundaries I draw around my thinking. The willingness to expand the mind beyond the daily experience. If I have never tasted ice cream, would I be willing to experience it? How many conditions would I have to break through, how many stories would I tell myself either for or against seeking out that new experience? 

Boundaries are created for the sake of safety and comfort. The ocean is big and the pool is manageable. My relationship is small but I feel safe. What I don't know about is called crazy. That is until it enters my experience. Then it is I who becomes crazy for thinking the limited thought. 

Conditioning.

It is a product of our past. It is meant to be re-examined. It serves no real purpose. It proposes no solutions. It keeps the status quo. It forces the life inside to close up and assume an unnatural shape. It provides no safety or opportunity. It is trash to be taken out with last week's garbage collection. It is the skin that is to be shed on a daily basis, so each day is free for exploration. 

Unconditioned. Unconditional. Without the boundary, without the condition, without the preconditioned mind  is when humanity's bud can begin to open up. And while I may still sit in the same seat day in and day out, it will be chosen in the context of serving the entire room full of people.

"I"

I love you.

I miss you.

I want you.

You draw me in.

You entice me.

You intrigue me.

I am losing my footing.

I am responding to your being.

I am helpless.

Fear arises.

Conflict hurricanes.

One step forward and two steps back. Or three.

I love you but...

I miss you but...

I want you but...

Your power.

Your grace.

Your beauty.

They overtake me.

They suffocate me.

They drown me. Gently. Gradually. Unexpectedly.

Reaching for the flame that has the potential to ignite me. And to burn me. 

I love you. But only conditionally.

I miss you. But only conditionally,

I want you. But only if my feet are securely planted. Into the soil. Into your heart. Holding you down. Just enough to love you. Just enough to hold you. Just enough to swallow you. Without losing.

While you talk of surrender...