Sunday, August 21, 2016

revisiting

all along, the source of information was deluded. the source was not sound.

and revisiting, the writings here are as though by a stranger, when they were once me.

Monday, February 15, 2016

the lesson is learned; let the crate sink

jill and joe fought over opening the crate; they knew all the darkness inside, all the fear and terror, the troubles of the world, the pain

step in, create space, back away and think first; together we sat down and held hands around it and asked, Why open? What lesson is there to be learned?

in front of the crate, we already had the lesson there, on a thin slip of paper:

do not trust genius, narcissism, charm; great accomplishment can give rise to pride, the worst of the seven sins. pride can take a person down, and many others with that person.

so we have the lesson. it is there. there is no need to keep the crate now. let us drop it, let it sink to the bottom.

I command jill and joe to carry the crate to the edge of the ship, no strings attached. It drops into the ocean with a splash, white wash flying up, but then gone. briefly we see its dark brown exterior sink deeper, deeper... into blackness. it'll be at the bottom of the sea, along with probably thousands of other crates, many of which far larger. the sea is ridden with evil crates from the world, horror stories, but we take the slip of paper from it - the lessons - and let these crates fade away to nothingness.

this one is gone.

there may be small bubbles that come from bubble, little slips of paper that look tempting to grab. we should fish them gently, but not dive deeper into the realms below, because only drowning can be found there.

fish carefully; create space, lots of space, at any site of faint bubbles arising; do not rush, do not be overeager; be patient, gentle; this is something jill should not jump in for; just gently notice the bubbles coming up, let them sit at the surface for a while; only later on, will a slip of paper bubble up to join, and that small thing should be snagged gently, barely scraping the surface of the water

may we return to guiding our ship, navigating these waters, finding peaceful views of glaciers, green forests, beautiful land, beautiful sky

a mind divided - captain of the ship: jill and joe people

people call me one name, generally
(other languages aside)

but in my head, there are actually multiple

d is the captain of the ship, the one who steers and navigates the storms, calls out when he spots land; draws cheers, encouragement; gives rise to celebration

then the crew members, none of whom act with space between stimulus and response:

jill people, the emotional, the irrational, acting through spontaneity; these people have instincts, can sense emotions; are eager to take action quickly

joe people, the stolid, quiet, hard workers; those who can be depended on for robotic tasks, but who focus too much on conscious logical decision-making, not enough on gut feeling, often deliberating too much

d should balance his crew members, draw from the behavior of the crowd, and decide how to navigate the waters
jill people and joe people

it's about balancing intuition with reason, and keeping plenty of space between stimulus and response

Sunday, March 29, 2015

shroud

A shadow of a portrait that I once held on the wall
People still stop and admire, rest their chins in their hands and thoughtfully smile
But I have since took down the frame
And let the dust settle on it from afar

An occasional smile, glance, eye contact
But usually her hair shrouds her queenly image
a sliver of brilliance; a whole history of accomplishment hidden

Monday, February 16, 2015

wispy conversation. defeat.

some people we talk to, the words just vanish into thin air. wisps. as though the conversation never even happened. no substance, no real buildup in getting to know each other, no consequence.

--

defeated. but in defeat, there is great simplicity.