One of the most profound, if not horrifying, things about adulthood is the recognition and internalization that no one has the answers *for you* and that there is no power on this Earth that can prevail over you. If there is to be such things as Truth and Justice and Love and all those wonderful aspirations flourishing in one's life, it depends strictly and entirely on one's own commitments to those transcendental ideas. It's also the basis for one's surrender to the faith of one's upbringing - a Heavenly Father, so to speak (yet another transcendent idea that "rules them all"), because if the life of Jesus H. Christ has anything to teach us, is that it's much more likely that your commitmentment to those things will be betrayed by even your closest, most dearest loved ones who are trying to do "the right thing" a la #Judas, a coward. And, in a world that believes you can buy your way into heaven, striving towards righteousness is tantatamount to being The Fool, and The Fool is is the Commander-In-Chief.
Upon the breach —
the crossing’s onset is signaled by ripples in the firmament
where the tears — the water of the life — begins
to flow.
There is silent weeping, waves of heaving;
way over there and enormous.
Then a pleasing warmth washes over the hurt that the fear for death’s closeness upon the afflicted heart had passed, my dear friends.
The balm surges out.
The breach, continues to unfold now pulsing with knowing that it,
the heart,
will soon be ready to put this part of its reason for beating
to a lasting sleep … to end the sufferings,
but for a moment of relief … reprieve at last,Horatio, my dear friend.
to a lasting sleep … to end the sufferings,
but for a moment of relief … reprieve at last,Horatio, my dear friend.
Were it not for The Love of a Mother
on which nothing more need qualify it
it: this short reprieve from being unborn.
O! and you, too, Atula! … For you whom they scorn at every turn!
All this is not for your glory, but for His — whose providence is fulfilled and felt when the capacity for His creation to abide in joy and love is in and through its knowing of the depth of its sadness
its despair
its …
on which nothing more need qualify it
it: this short reprieve from being unborn.
O! and you, too, Atula! … For you whom they scorn at every turn!
All this is not for your glory, but for His — whose providence is fulfilled and felt when the capacity for His creation to abide in joy and love is in and through its knowing of the depth of its sadness
its despair
its …
it is forsakenness.
When the surrender nears, it closes over, engulfing, a life that was
nurtured and cared for and which endured
even through this Valley of the Shadow of Death,
When the surrender nears, it closes over, engulfing, a life that was
nurtured and cared for and which endured
even through this Valley of the Shadow of Death,
folding over and collapsing in upon itself for union — re-union —
an illusion
worthy of laughter and love which had been His intended passion for his children and
for you to behold in all of this
since since since
for you to behold in all of this
since since since
the very beginning.
In the breach, the heart becomes acquainted again with its true nature as capable of being eternally vulnerable
in the light of,
In the breach, the heart becomes acquainted again with its true nature as capable of being eternally vulnerable
in the light of,
in light of the lasting,
light of
light of
cherished memories.
《《Sunday, 1:13 AM, July 9th
Omg
Thank you so much
Love u so much
Been a ride
Seeing u all I feel a bit lost in the crazy fire I live in
♥️
Love u so much
Been a ride
Seeing u all I feel a bit lost in the crazy fire I live in
♥️
《《Sunday, 1:20 AM, July 9th:
Miss u and everyone so much
Been feeling similar, old friend - lost. Or, at least feeling like that morning when we (Big Dave, Taimoor, and I) pulled up in Key West after tripping on LSD all the way down US1.
We went straight up to the "Sothern-most Point" Buoy. The National Monument was empty. It still seems odd for it to have been painted like a Rastafarian flag.
Before the tourists began showing up, this guy with a Panama hat and overalls rides up in a bicycle. He stops near an old wood door covering a dug out in the Colonial Spanish masonry; rusted, cast-iron strap hinges.
He opens it after a few turns of the combination lock while still straddling his cycle. He smiles at us and says, "Morning! Great day for The Lord to come, don't ya think?"
I looked at the untroubled waters. Dawn was about to break, and then it did - dawn. A grain of infinite brilliance hadn't been there, and then there it was; It was beautiful, but it hurt to look at it.
I felt the presence if Cuba ninety miles ... just over the horizon like a harvest moon can feel close enough to touch.
He introduced himself as William. He said that the harbor master let him store some things in that locker. We each played a round of chess, and we all lost the five-buck wager.
I reckoned that he was right, unequivocally. It certainly was a great day for The Lord to come. And, then he did - The Lord. I felt His Mercy wash over me. I took a deep breath of the brine mist that had just splashed up, and I felt safe. Untroubled for a split second. Calm. It was remarkable!
I have felt like that in these last few days, except without being suffused in that sensation of immediacy ... lost. Forsaken?
The mood sounds like that Joni Mitchel song, Chelsea Morning, but played on a stereo with one speaker busted. It really is at the moment - playing but one of my speakers broke.
Complete verses with that dulcimer voice hollowed out and far away ... Like a ghost in the other room where the screwdriver and tape to fix speaker is stashed in some bin; like what I imagine a phantom limb to feel like or exactly like the taste of the blueberry pancakes I ate yesterday.
The mood will pass ... it always does.
Love always.
J.
Brooklyn, NY
