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

19 August 2008


Day Two: Accept Forgiveness.
"There is a milk fountain inside you./Don't walk around with an empty bucket." Awake in the dark cool breeze and the song of rain wind in the trees awake and saying thank you to the world that went on without me while i dreamed restless dreams of bus stops and reunions. Reunion. i am tempted to walk out in the dark with the dog so i can return home in the daylight. wide awake, ready. the rain lets up dog and i westward into cloud valley deer with faun cattle with calves a mist like beside the great falls your skin drinking it in the negative ions the clean smell of morning peaceful meadow of browse white noise of crickets lights come on in houses five pheasant hens lift their petticoats to get out of the way. accept forgiveness for who ive been whats been said and done or not. what i go to guru for. what i live for. forgiveness. and always thought it had to come from other. but others forgiveness is nothing if its not accepted. by me. so i accept forgiveness. shame is a habit and habits are meant to be broken. i break the vow of shame and self-loathing. i break the vow of self-deprecation self-depredation. i accept forgiveness as the rain is my baptism as this morning is my new world as these words offer testament to my liberation thea-logy my emergence philosophy my forgiveness. because nothing comes from out there. its in here. everything.
"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)