“Longing, we say, because desire is full
of endless distances.”

16 June 2008


Bright Idea #35: Love Unconditionally.
"Be contented with what you possess in life; be thankful for what does not belong to you, for it is so much care the less; but try to obtain what you need in life, and make the best of every moment of your life." Love All, Serve All. Investigate the origins of that. BFF heart trouble knocked around sleepless lonesome needs space she needs some space from needing. Mister Lincoln rose offers its scent freely in afternoon kitchen cross-breeze simple household tasks that bind one to ones place and raise the vibration i dont care for it too clean magazine clean its not in me but a little better than neglected leaves my people at ease. i grew up in a mausoleum and live on a farm. a little farm little garden little dogs little lessons everyday in living letting go loving unconditionally. been short of breath been trying to seem worth it but im worth it already with nothing to begin with. things need doing but were human beings like she said not human doings and i notice that if i dont get time to be i get ragged. i am solitary and people drag my battery dry. people are beautiful. people are precious twists of flesh around a shining soul. but my true lovers are the wind and rain the sun and moon the green spirits and the trees. these things i see in my other lovers and for which i love them. i love them all. before i know it ill be sifting in the wind around the compost pile. right now now today now i want to love unconditionally want to sing and smile and be alright. i want to connect commune create i want to be a Light Force i want to raise the vibration so people can sing and smile and connect with their own shining Light and be alright.
"And if the question were asked: What is more real, the mundane or the sublime? most would hesitate before they gave an answer. On the one side, details: say, the aftermath of a breakfast, dirty chipped plates in the sink, their rims encrusted with egg yolk. Against this, the unnameable: small aching heart with boasts, what can you know? Outside the cage of everything we ever heard or saw, beyond, outside, above, there lies the real, hiding as long as we shall live, there stretch and trail the millions of names of God burning across the eons. When all through this our end will come before we even know the names of us.

For many the egg yolk prevails." -L.M.

"Love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well." -V.V.G.

"The perfection of the Absolute where all Becoming stops and pure Being, immutable, timeless, unchanging, hangs forever like a ripe peach upon the bough." -E.A.

"...and the whole incident was incredibly frazzling and angst-rod and filled almost a whole mead notebook and is here recounted in only its barest psycho-skeletal outline." -D.F.W.

"At the top of the mountain, we are all snow leopards." -H.S.T.

"Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live." -D.T.
"Cometh a voice: My children, hear; From the crowded street and the close-packed mart I call you back with my message clear, back to my lap and my loving heart. Long have ye left me, journeying on by range and river and grassy plain, to the teeming towns where the rest have gone - come back, come back to my arms again. So shall ye lose the foolish needs that gnaw your souls; and my touch shall serve to heal the fretted nerve. Treading the turf that ye once loved well, instead of the stones of the city's street, ye shall hear nor din nor drunken yell, but the wind that croons in the ripening wheat. I that am old have seen long since ruin of palaces made with hands for the soldier-king and the priest and prince whose cities crumble in desert sands. But still the furrow in many a clime yields softly under the ploughman's feet; still there is seeding and harvest time, and the wind still croons in the ripening wheat. The works of man are but little worth; for a time they stand, for a space endure; but turn once more to your mother - Earth, my gifts are gracious, my works are sure. Instead of the strife and pain I give you peace, with its blessing sweet. Come back, come back to my arms again, for the wind still croons in the ripening wheat."
-John Sandes, The Earth-Mother (excerpt, 1918)