Loss prevention

I shall tip forward into the wind or upon the people I want to become so I become nothing and a part of everything.
I fear for my heart and my dangerous thoughts because I don't turn on them. I center myself on this kernel, taut in the middle of myself, clench my fists, grit my teeth, let out a shout and blow to pieces disappearing into nothingness and giving ...gifting?... myself to everybody and everything. My gift I can't see and have no standard with which to value it: I cannot understand value in itself, a thing's value just because it is. In theory that's a thing, but not in my operating yet.
I am between my best and closest friends in peace, in the sun, and I hold them and who they are and am eclipsed totally. They rise and my shoulders slump. I sink into the ground and my bones clack upon each other. Everything I measure by has no value, but I'm not used LOVE just LOVE and BEING because I am mashed into gruel at the thought of my self or the apparent failing of my purpose and prize. I speak one thing and live many others.
I am confident in the truth and purity of the word when I am alight, but I don't live it.

The pressure is always there to be something more. But it's not pressure, just a push, always offered and always given. Do you want more or don't you? You are free to stop for a while, or for a long while, forever if you want, but if you listen the call will always be to the hunt or to the places you haven't cleaned or explored yet because the garden was given to you. What will you? What do you will? What will you do? Whose will? To what end? Where are you looking and what are you doing? How do you spend your days?

What do you win, what do you loose; what do you receive, what do you lose?
What do you carry and what do you finish; what do you run for and what do you hold?
How much of your waking time and how much of your life is bound up in stuff and nonsense...



life is so much more; a god-love enshrouds us
we are held and there's nothing to lose

Light Breach

How, then, do I become conscious? Theories abound and people make it up when they have no idea. I’ve tried meditation, drugs, yoga, new religion, discipline, nature, free-love, aggression, self-mutilation, deja-vu, past regression, hypnosis, séance, information dissemination, skydiving, risking my life, adrenaline, tattoos, alcohol, women, work, money, men, friendship, hardship, war, research, philosophy, action, inaction, food, humanitarian efforts, psychology, psychoses, loss, gain, wealth, stars, planets, crystals, running, swimming, digging, building, cleaning, organizing, meeting people, starting projects. At this point I felt my world narrowing because I was exhausting everything I could think of yet wasn’t waking up – where are answers? Who has them? Someone must. I couldn’t be alone in this ever-shrinking idea of life or satisfaction. I could tell if I kept going on like this the transition to outside the diminishing circle would kill me. I’d have to get the directions to just... find myself out there in free space. Is that cheating? To skip the work? Can you do that? New pursuits, ruination, eastern religions, art, poetry, fashion design, buying things. I couldn’t stop and I was reaching the end of me – where haven’t I looked? The whole world; there’s nowhere left. Vandalism theft, prison, insanity, hurt, children, marriage, assault, divorce, depression, hate, rebound love, fire-walking, fire eating, brick-oven pizza. 

I went to the park and sat on a bench. Head empty, ears ringing with screams of loss, dissatisfaction, the improbable and the impossible. A man sat next to me and the voices died. I awakened to the park, the sound of leaves and birds, the sun on the grass. I swear it was the first breath I had taken in years. I looked to my right at the middle-aged man with a beard in need of shaving. He saw me looking. “Beautiful day, huh?” he said. His voice popped up on the ‘huh,’ indicating I could only agree. It took a second but I croaked out a yes. He smiled small and turned to look at me, his eyes kind and blue. He just saw me for a minute and then he blew my mind.

“Life isn’t hard, we just think it is because we think we can get it wrong. We think by changing others, or our circumstances or habits we can find peace, but that’s like picking the apples and expecting oranges next time. Then we blame the tree for not meeting our expectations – blame ourselves, others for our dissatisfaction. You have to start with good ground and the seed you want – then focus every good thought and action on its growth and cultivation and in no time you’ll have what you desire. Merely setting yourself toward this end will occupy you and make you well because you’re moving, doing consciously the thing you are meant to do, that is: actively choosing the life you live. Then everything , Every Single Thing will feed the seed and the tree will be beautiful and fruitful and it will be yours; will be you. But nothing can happen before its time. Attention is the only thing you have – not resources, funds, time – all that depletes or has human valuation or doesn’t exist – you don’t know how much time you have. All you have is where you fix your eyes. Are you reaching toward the light?”

Not Escape: Liberation

I almost died again today at my own hand. Is this the cost of liberty? My life?
It's interesting how laying down your life (being killed or pushing off the mortal coil) and taking your life (holding it in a strangle hold and running away with it) are so closely linked. I went from a tighter grasp to a letting go - letting go relinquishes control and illusion, opening you to liberty and favor, and oh, look at that, joy. Holding tighter reinforces stress, the need to maintain performance and uphold illusion - it's all about your ability to create and cultivate a life. It's like paying too much attention to a plant.

There's a struggle in me for life.
I think my life, MY LIFE, should look like [some idea] and when I have finally gotten to [setting, destination, state] I'll be happy and satisfied. This is my soul.
But I have been called to a higher faith, one where my life is forfeit, yet somehow recovered and expanded.
These two things combine in me and create a tumult that I really can't stand. Like rending clothes and gnashing teeth can't stand, and pretty quickly suicide is the only possible solution to putting an end to the contention in me.
But it's the Word that puts an end to all contention. My soul can buck the word, but it cannot win. My soul breaks itself on the word, because satan's seat is based on a twisted understanding of it, and when I get the truth sorted out, that unrighteous throne is righted.

I've said 'my life is forfeit' and meant that it just wasn't mine.
He's asked for my life.
I'm going to Alaska to fucking die.
I'm scared as shit.

This is soul-crunching.
I stare down these giant jaws that are going to take me in and crush me to mash. He spits the bones into the desert and then sings them back together.
And then nothing's ever the same.

I feel like we need different words for the life we live and the life of the flesh-and-bone body; separate these concepts for clarity. My body's living-meat is fodder, and the way I live my life are what I do - I consider that me, and this body an extension of that. What I have to work with, so to speak. Learn to live with, learn to love.
____
I wrote the above in a state of insanity. Rereading it, it's surprisingly lucid and anyone who's dealt with suicide will recognize the glare blinding lights leave in your eyes when everything's silent black. Yet, like our calling in life, it ends with hope, enough energy to propel us into the next act of our story.
Our understanding of God (my understanding of God) has been wack. We've been focused on who we think He is instead of learning who He is. We've gotten to know Him through hearsay .... like Kaiser Soze in The Usual Suspects: you don't know who he is but operations go forward anyway. And it turns out you were beholding a deceiver the whole time; gazing into a dark mirror; forgetting who you are.
God's Sovereign and Just and Love and Peace, and you can't discuss one of them without discussing the others no matter how you focus, much like the Trinity. All that said, there's hope, and it drives us on.

On Tour

I'm writing to my heart and I keep tempering my words and route of discussion because I'm afraid I'll see I'm in pieces. And crazy. In crazy pieces.