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

18 May 2010

"Entering the Beauty is realizing that you're in the Beauty."

open the aperture.

knowing this, i accept Gogol Bordello as my personal saviour.
Hutz and all the wild gypsy angels, ecstatic bloodlife of my mothers people.
i need those speakers fixed.
i need to laugh and dance.
i need to be my soul in the World.
dont worry.
make it a good happy life.
 make it full of light.

"Be small and love beyond the realm of measure."

the smoke flows down the stick somehow from an emberhot peak and tower of ash.  the smoke flows down into the bowl into the bowl of salt i lose the trail and there is nothing but a sweet smell in the air.  Life flows through us down from Elsewhere somehow our time is white heat and dust.  Life flows through us into all Interbeing losing the illusion of separation and the presence of Love like a sweet smell in the air.

"Give freely with both of your hands."

i am grateful to have been given this time to understand.
after dense relentless Rroma angels drive me out to the light i need a little Eno, the wide spaces, like emerging from some endless canopy onto the shore.
i am on the shore.
i forgot that parsley takes forever.  that the true leaves come later.  that it takes an oak tree sixty years to sing an acorn.  but now i remember. 
and it doesnt matter how many times i fall down, out, apart.  as long as its always one time less than i rise.
thats why were given this time that for us seems so long.  so we can keep learning.  so we have lot of opportunities to understand, and help others in their understanding.
not opinions.  not division nor even aspects.  but initial essential understanding of self/soul as part of Whole.  
The Whole Thing.
Priestess Initiate of The Whole Thing.
Blessed Be.

"Kindness.  Honesty.  Sharing.  Courage."

with every evolution the matter refines.  from such dim and viscous matter did rise this wiser Light before you.
with every turning it comes closer and clearer.  and i have the help of a Great Teacher, and the aspiration to Girl Power, and the gift of Grace. 
i have Duane Allman and Derek Trucks and Steve Earle and the Dead.  i have Susan Tedeschi and Kathleen Edwards and Maddy Prior and Nina Simone.  i have candlelight and kissing and wildwood and night.  i have bright mornings and clean water and Reindeer and little birds.  there is nothing i lack.  tide turns with waxing lamp of the Traveler.  the aperture opens.  the farther In i go. 

ten for today:

1.  rain 
2.  dogs
3.  bread
4.  music
5.  books
6.  tea
7.  plants
8.  coffee
9.  brownies
10.  gogol bordello.

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Blessed Be.

"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."

"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)