The Spirit of Truth cannot whisper to your thoughts. The mind, however nimble, clings to its imagined boundaries. Behind your thoughts, the watcher slumbers. He waits, and dreams, and knows. The truth is so simple and profound.
Imagine you are a map of the entire universe, you plot out a course dropping pins at favorite spots. Life in its current state, is like visiting a certain spot and convincing yourself that you are a pin.
To express ideas and point to beauty and truth is wonderful and necessary, but to confine ones self to identity, in the sense that it means separate intity, is to perpetuaute the illusion.
Pluck the rose if you must, but breathe deeply the intoxicating fragrance. Touch the petals softly. Whisper private affirmations. It belongs with you not to you. Always to enjoy, never to possess. It is best left wild on the vine, so passers-by might linger a moment and remember that life is beautiful, fragile, and much simpler than we’ll allow.
Your artistry is whatever you put out into the world. It is as unique as you are. It’s almost crazy to think that you may not even be aware of the splashes of your masterpiece that you leave in your wake.
I was reading an article about unusual psychiatric studies involving patients with brain injuries and mental illnesses, and suddenly the strangest idea occurred to me—–what if what really makes you you is simply an electrical impulse, a signal broadcast on a specific frequency. Transmitted from where? And you believed you were the vehicle, expiring when it ran out of gas. Personality disorders? Competing signals? Alzheimer’s? Weak signal? Far fetched? Maybe, but interesting none the less.
There is nothing more powerful than truth. We cannot adequately measure the depth of its beauty, as we cannot wrap our minds around the distance of infinity, nor can we comprehend how long forever may be. One could argue that truth itself is cold and heartless without the emotions and we attach to it. However, it just may be that it exists as we understand it to be perceived, we recognize it because of the way it feels. Keep publishing your truths as you discover them and singing us your songs, they may lead us to new ones of our own and I find that idea quite powerful and beautiful.
You have found some truths
Some difficult truths
Some may even belong to you
You own them like your own skin
But you only see in part and feel in part
They do not define you
The greatest part is an arms length away
You have to keep reaching
Simpler minds may be satisfied with the tactile qualities
Of the surface, but you must plunge deeper
Reach, dive, dream, and never give up.
It is not so very long
Our sojourn here
So try your best to make it count for something
Break from the tiresome routines
Step out of your comfort zone
Give of yourself and you’ll get more of you back
Share with me your brokenness
Your imperfections, the ugly cry,
The snorting laugh
Paint on a smile for the rest of the world if you must, but take me inside you until I discover the truth
Speak to me with your eyes, don’t turn away and break the spell
You have nothing to hide from me, I am not fit to judge myself much less anyone else
I will guide your fingertips across my scars, slowly tracing the textures
Your whispered breath in my ear is the only language we need
Be with me only, fully present in this moment
I sense your fear as I blow your defenses down and advance into the hidden places
I am also afraid, you are my sanctuary
We are so close to discerning what has been lacking
The origins of our phantom aches
Peering cautiously through the veil together
One step further and we must loose the silver chords, disintangled and set adrift
Inescapably joined together alone
perchance never to return
I love the jumping lines
I watch them approach and fall behind
And the trees running backwards
I watch them until I am dizzy
Then lean back and extend my arm
Just far enough to allow my hand to surf the wind outside the rolled down window
Sometimes the air bids you lean forward to brush your face and tussle your hair Other times it is enough just to close your eyes and listen to its whispered. secrets
The well traveled highway sings
Bumps and roars, tires rolling rhythmic clicks and pops
I am a traveler, and for the moment it doesn’t matter where we go or for how long
I’m swept up in the motion, in the journey, in the going
The present rushing past, fleeting , beautiful
Not to hold, not to keep, not to have
Seeing, feeling, reaching out, touching, being touched, listening, learning, and letting go