Echoes across the universe stretch out toward near infinity or true infinity, depending on your theory. Each moment changing the sound, the quality, the 'togetherness' of that distorting sound or image of what the initial creation was. Some say it is gone forever, deteriorating, dissipating, diluting. Others claim all the components of that thing--that source--that original creation are still here with us--or far away--but real and enduring. We need only gather those pieces together and place them properly. We only need a map, or a recording, or a memory of it exactly.
Even as we squash it back together, its essence dripping through our fingers and cascading down our arms--even as we go, whoops! and back up, our blunder only adding more haphazard dimension to the layers of recording---somewhere, somewhere, in THERE is the original, which we will eventually piece back together. And the moment of reassemblage becomes no moment. The sudden paradox might give us pause. Original or refurbished? Now it has history that moment of origin did not. Can it ever be the same? Was it ever the same?
Friday, April 06, 2012
Thursday, November 13, 2008
To Learn Beside the Wall
(written in my journal 2-24-07 but reflected on today)
Sometimes the forces of life are more powerful than all our urges and desires. Our wants are like pebbles thrown feebly against a formidable sandstorm's gale.
Pushing up against it is futile, yet we obstinately cry -- I am as David against Goliath! I have the right to win! In fact --I must! Push. Push. Push. To be said -- valiant... noble... brave? Or bullheaded? Only time and the majority's conclusions can tell.
Sometimes, however strange it may sound, bowing to the ocean's crashing tide is more noble and brave than swimming against its current. Surrender is not necessarily defeat. It's worth is hinged on two things -- coming from one root: Motivation.
Motivation. Your heart, your soul's compass, presents the key for one specific lock. Ego has many keys to various locks, but they open to find the same dank, darkness of the unfulfillable dressed up deceptively as the occasional gift of swaying temporal triumph.
Motivation. Victim or Observer? If one is motivated to find pain - as Ekard Tole calls the pain body -- then one's quest is to be the victim and one shall struggle against any brick wall with a stick of vivacious zeal and howl as the stick breaks
Ah! Evil life! I defy you!
And with bare bloody hands, one scratches up the wall until standing triumphantly at the top crying
Aha. I won! I beat the odds against me! I am great!
Such victory. Such valor. And the wall is still there. It is unmoved, undamaged, unruffled. The victim to the victorious? Just an extra spark of importance. But the wall has neither idea nor care about this.
Perhaps motivated by this story one shall seek out the next place where surely one shall be victimized yet again to show the world one's greater force. And eventually enemies shall be found at every stop sign, office floor, and grocery story whether they know who this seeking, seething victim/victor staring them down really is or not.
Straw enemies. Faked for the urge.
Motivation. Victim or Observer? For the open observer of the journey the foot of the wall is just as interesting and revealing as the top. The edge of the sea as fulfilling as the deep. The exploring observer connects with the Universe's wisdom and asks
Show me.
There is no need to be right but to learn.
Sometimes the forces of life are more powerful than all our urges and desires. Our wants are like pebbles thrown feebly against a formidable sandstorm's gale.
Pushing up against it is futile, yet we obstinately cry -- I am as David against Goliath! I have the right to win! In fact --I must! Push. Push. Push. To be said -- valiant... noble... brave? Or bullheaded? Only time and the majority's conclusions can tell.
Sometimes, however strange it may sound, bowing to the ocean's crashing tide is more noble and brave than swimming against its current. Surrender is not necessarily defeat. It's worth is hinged on two things -- coming from one root: Motivation.
Motivation. Your heart, your soul's compass, presents the key for one specific lock. Ego has many keys to various locks, but they open to find the same dank, darkness of the unfulfillable dressed up deceptively as the occasional gift of swaying temporal triumph.
Motivation. Victim or Observer? If one is motivated to find pain - as Ekard Tole calls the pain body -- then one's quest is to be the victim and one shall struggle against any brick wall with a stick of vivacious zeal and howl as the stick breaks
Ah! Evil life! I defy you!
And with bare bloody hands, one scratches up the wall until standing triumphantly at the top crying
Aha. I won! I beat the odds against me! I am great!
Such victory. Such valor. And the wall is still there. It is unmoved, undamaged, unruffled. The victim to the victorious? Just an extra spark of importance. But the wall has neither idea nor care about this.
Perhaps motivated by this story one shall seek out the next place where surely one shall be victimized yet again to show the world one's greater force. And eventually enemies shall be found at every stop sign, office floor, and grocery story whether they know who this seeking, seething victim/victor staring them down really is or not.
Straw enemies. Faked for the urge.
Motivation. Victim or Observer? For the open observer of the journey the foot of the wall is just as interesting and revealing as the top. The edge of the sea as fulfilling as the deep. The exploring observer connects with the Universe's wisdom and asks
Show me.
There is no need to be right but to learn.
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