this experiment? this game of hide and seek? this Sick joke, haha? this paradise?
is a bit like watching babies with blowtorches and chainsaws.
Our attention is a powerful force. We have no idea.
Our connection to source is combustable. We have no idea.
Turn that laser on something like jealousy, feed it full on human attention and watch a dangerous garden grow up (at stop action film speed) around you, flowers dripping with poison, fruits with the ability to down, vines with thorns to encage one’s heart while baby shoots of hatred, self loathing, bitterness and stink are crowding out the birds of paradise and sturdy green plants of love and appreciation from getting some sun or food. This whole journey to show us our power? Perhaps lessons are more powerful outside the sort of simulators we can detect.
Turn that laser attention inside into an internal nuclear reactor, and we walk around like a sun. We can grow a garden on our face.
Isn’t it all so remarkable? Seeing those trapped in vines, and not being able to release them from their own creations? Inside, these souls are imagining something has trapped them there, but they have the power of the sun to burn down the poison garden. Then others in the circumstances of seeming despair, are alit from within, shining on all with equanimity.
But all this sounds rather polar, light and dark, good and bad. It only sounds that way because I have trouble articulating the middle path. The combustable heart does not come about by denying the dark forest, but by walking through the underbelly, bravely – by incorporating all, by eating that heart of darkness whole, by allowing the chin to drip a bit bloody, and incorporating the totality – dancing with the shadow until you spin yourself into the vortex of this:
We live years with no idea.
And an interesting aside to recognizing this immense power within is also recognizing who gains when we don’t know our own power. Who is watching the destruction? Who is watching the creation in any moment? Who can syphon off this power from the baby creators for its own use? Who likes us clueless?
Sounds all very science fictiony. But at the end of the show, the predator is revealed to be of our creation as well, a wolf to make the fairy tale exciting.
Watching the show…keeping all open…igniting the heart from within.
The divine had had enough of just wondering about experience. Upon diving in, she divided, fragmented, shattered into these infinite portals of views. Landing behind our eyes is much more than a camera view; it is a breathing experience through many sets of eyes, the whole shebang of eyes – of each -and every – thing. The eyes behind the eyes of the trees, the eyes of squirrels, the eyes of wind, rivers, humans…
I can only relate through my own eyes. My goal is not to take a walk down memory lane for marga but to explore my memories because perhaps what I remember is much like all of our experiences with this…this…what? What is a word? Epiphany? Realization? Sensation? The experience of knowing you are more than just you?
I was in 8th grade when I remember recognizing that odd outside perspective of something experiencing itself through me. I was walking the long, weird hallways of my middle school, going to the bus at the end of the day when saw the world through my eyes as though I were someone else.
I said to myself in that moment, “I am a Camera,” (I didn’t know of the British Film from the 50’s) and I gave my eyes over to IT for a better view. I showed the viewer, “This is how we wait in the cold, dark mornings for the bus to come at the top of the hill, this is how 8th grade girls talk in the bathroom, this is what they say in the lunch line”…I had a constant viewer with me for a while, observing my life and my mind.
My brother had been diagnosed with cancer and the ego could no longer claim its identity as the sister of the popular, athletic, older brother, but now I was the sister of the kid with cancer. By the next winter I was the sister of the kid who died. Perhaps this explains the sudden shift in perspective. The unfolding in front of me no longer made any sense in a traditional way.
And then on my wedding day, that same oddness; who sees through these eyes? Who is watching me do this thing?
Back and forth in every moment, doing and watching the doing, me and not me.
Sometimes I imagined a whole planet of beings were experiencing our world though the portal in my head. I tried to show them what it was like, objectively. Perhaps I am responsible for the delay in Contact 🙂
This process is written about in past tense, as if the divine long ago at the creation of the world chose to dive in, but perhaps it is more like a continual process, an infinite interplay in EVERY moment between divinity and creation.
The ego with its serious thoughts continually seems to push aside these moment, but actually this interplay is always present, always right here.
We all share these experiences, don’t we?
Some begin to cultivate this observer perspective – openings can occur here.
This music is not everyone’s tastes, but here, is yet another window of eyes, experiencing: complete, with a freaky video, too:
Parabola, Tool, Lyrics
So familiar and overwhelmingly warm
This one, this form I hold now
Embracing you, this reality here
This one, this form I hold now, so
Wide eyed and hopeful
Wide eyed and hopefully wild
We barely remember what came before this precious moment
Choosing to be here right now
Hold on, stay inside…
This body holding me, reminding me that I am not alone in…
This body makes me feel eternal
All this pain is an illusion
I missed this band while I was busy playing a mother. So much fun to be introduced to a whole body of work by my friend! Fearless rage, shadow exploration, mirror work, discovery – delicious! This is a student project on You Tube…I share this song in my poetry unit every semester! Teacher is a bit of a thrasher 🙂
Today Tool is my musical break from grading essays and averaging this semester’s work. If I read too many essays in a row without a joyful break, the grades spiral down.
With my feet upon the ground
I lose myself between the sounds
And open wide to suck it in
I feel it move across my skin
I’m reaching up and reaching out
I’m reaching for the random, for
Whatever will bewilder me
Whatever will be willed on me
And following our will and wind
We may just go where no one’s been
We’ll ride the spiral to the end
We may just go where no one’s been
Life as Improv 