Children of the Wind 4 0f 4
Writings by Sha’Ra On WindWalker
(in collaboration with Sha’Tara EarthStar)
Copyright (©) 2017 Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing
Published by: Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing
Chilliwack, B.C. Canada
Cover picture by: Anton Belovodchenko
web page: https://500px.com/belovodchenko
Space Picture: ESA/Hubble
Next Series: What the Trees Taught Me
I hope you enjoy these writings. Feedback is welcome.
These books represent a varied collection of remarkable “outside the box” thinking (and subsequently, writing).
If you are one of those trammeled and importuned by strong beliefs that won’t let go, this could be your chance to break free. I’m not asking you to believe what is written therein—I can’t say I believe all of it myself—but it makes for an interesting “other than” perspective. Reading these books can be compared to painting by numbers. You have this standard picture outline and between lines are colour numbers. You match the numbers to the colours and eventually you have a painting. It’s not great art, of course, and everybody knows that but it gives you the impression that you did it yourself. We all know that is how the System operates. It gives us a number of colours and our life is laid out and numbered, from cradle to the grave. There isn’t much we can do about it, it seems. It’s the System.
Ah, but there is something we can do about it. We can ignore the numbers. Use random colours and mix them. If “3” is green, we do pink on one of the “3” sections and arbitrarily use orange on the next, and so on. Pretty soon the System doesn’t know us anymore and guess what? We discover what real freedom can be. It begins by breaking the rules; by daring to violate those imposed beliefs. Here’s one for you: Did man ever land on the moon? Of course they did, you will say. You saw it on TV, or you saw the videos and read the reports and documentaries, right? Ok, fine. But that is not the point since landing on the moon or not did nothing to change the way people interact with each other. So the point? The point is to paint a different colour on the “moon landing” section of your life’s canvas. A “fake moon landing” colour. Now really go into this idea. Break the template here, convince yourself it was all faked in some studio, for whatever political reason. Then proceed to prove to yourself that it was so. Study this bit of history; look at the clues. What happens in the end? In the end you realize it doesn’t matter at all whether they landed on the moon or not. What matters is, you dared question it.
The material in here questions “taken for granted” ideas, sometimes seriously, sometimes with humour.
You know, it’s hard to think these days, when everything is handed to us via TV and the Internet. Everything tells us how to think, and does so in the blink of an eye. We don’t have to wait for the President’s state of the union speech, or the preacher’s rant on a given Sunday. We Google!
Can a mind atrophy? You bet. Look into these booklets and think about thinking.
I wonder about the value of television… and for that matter, the real value of all our Mass Media. Is there any point to listen to “THE NEWS” when it seems that it is not truly NEWS that is being disseminated, but more like “BAD NEWS”? If they were truthful, they would open their program thus, “At the top of the BAD NEWS tonight: Another airline jet crashed in… The hole in the ozone layer has broadened over… GreenPeace declares that if we continue to destroy the rain forest… Hurricanes and flash floods rip through… The heaviest snow storm on record has caused massive damage and several deaths in… The serial rapist strikes again as two more women are attacked…
How many times have we heard this? How many times MUST we hear it before we come to the conclusion that something’s not in balance here? These prophets of doom and gloom whose mouths speak to garner higher ratings through sensationalism, shatter dreams, fuel fear and encourage the disasters and crime they so graphically describe with words, videos and cameras. Is our world as bad as all that? Are we really surrounded by nothing but wars, crooked politicians, natural disasters, destruction, crime of every description, to the point that only the really BIG crooks, the really MEAN criminals and the really VIOLENT storms can hope to make it in prime time? See what I mean? The average pickpocket, shoplifter or corner store hold up man hasn’t got a chance. They’re being forced to up the antes. Hit a BIG bank for lots of cash and kill an innocent bystander: that’ll do it. Or, rape many women, and torture them too: that’ll get their attention! Don’t just lose a small plane with 2 people on board: crash one with 300 people, then have it go up in a ball of flame, but only after the video cameras are properly in place for the show. Don’t shoot someone in a dark alley to even a score, go into a school and let loose with an Uzzi, killing at least a dozen or more, then make sure you have a properly done up suicide note before you turn the gun on yourself: that’ll get your name in lights and sell mega advertising space!
OK, so I wonder. Is all this smoke and mirrors aimed at feeding human morbidity to raise ratings so the Media can up its prices to advertisers? Maybe I make it sound too light-hearted, but look at it this way. What would happen, generally speaking, if we were all told that life is absolutely terrific, grand, marvellous, beautiful; that we should love ourselves and others; that we should truly enjoy ourselves and go out for walks in the moonlight on any city street on any night, just to get the feel of the energy shared between the heavens and the places where people live, and love each other? What if we were enjoined to get rid of our fears of the dark and of whatever we believe lurks out there, and instead, encouraged to face these fears and embrace them, allowing them to move through us and be changed too? Nuts? You bet it is, as long as we believe the way we are programmed to believe… but what if…?
Isn’t it all, really, a matter of attitude? Let me go one step further with this idea and propose this: WE are the ones who create our environment! So, what sort of environment do we really want? Do we want destruction, mayhem and fear, or are we ready for something a bit more grown up, such as understanding, acceptance, compassion, empathy, courage, love?
Perhaps what we are asking is for a chance to be allowed to grow up! No more bogey men under cars parked on the street or behind every dark door! No more need to prove ourselves by bleeding and by terror. No more need to sacrifice our belongings, our children, our own bodies to keep the morbidity grind going. Enough is enough, I say! Come on, Media. You’ve kept us grovelling by shovelling fear in our hearts long enough. Now we’re telling you that we’ve had enough of this. We’re not going to listen to you anymore because the story you keep repeating is becoming boring. If you want to sell ads, take up your responsibility in a changing environment. Give us information that uplifts, that educates, that helps us look at one another with trust and love. In other words, get with life, or you will be the next victim in human evolution.
You see, Media, if you continue to give us only a small slice of truth in order to force a large chunk of lies on us, we’re going to do what so many already do: we’re going to simply ignore you! We will use the Internet and such to find out what is going on, or we will return to using our old science of ESP. Too bad for you. We want the wind at our backs for positive change!
A memory lingers after you’ve left,
a memory of golden hair and soft blue eyes;
of warm laughter and loving tenderness.
A part of you remains in every place,
in the sigh of the wind in the poplars;
the dripping of the water from the roof
or the shadow of a reed in the river.
The lapping of the water on the rocks
has captured your gentle laughter;
from what seems long ago, you smile at me
through the velvet heart of a wild iris:
your love keeps my heart warm and soft
while mine grows by day and by night.
The memory dwells familiar in many places
but with much impatience and urgency:
for a memory is a lost soul in the night
and to live, needs the touch of the real:
will you come back and give it life?
On a windswept point
overlooking a restless sea
I envision building a house.
In the Spring, under a clear blue sky
I will lay out the foundations:
friends will come to help me build
and as the days go by,
excitement will fill the air
and the house will take shape quickly
with so many skilled hands helping.
I imagine seeing the finished work;
I can feel my joy in knowing
I will share this house
with the woman I love.
Mesmerized by this vision,
I barely notice the sea thundering below,
presaging a dark and wild storm.
But I feel the wind, and I hear a voice in it:
ABuilding a house is like falling in love:
there is much excitement
and many expectations
leading up to completion.
Also, many choices and many commitments.
Once the house is completed;
once you and your loved one are moved in,
be prepared for reality to set in:
mortgage payments, utilities, insurance, taxes;
getting used to a new lifestyle, new surroundings,
and countless new responsibilities.
However carefully built,
your construct will break down
and require expensive repairs:
Will it be best to sacrifice your life to this work,
or will you deem it useless and abandon it?
For thousands of years the people of earth have lived in some expectation of “something other than” – and every major religion speaks of a “return” of some deity, divinity, savior, avatar and lately the expectations have expanded to include aliens (non-divine, non-angelic, non-demonic, non-traditional) intervention in earth’s affairs.
These ancient beliefs have created a debilitating mindset of expectation that somebody out there cares for earth and earth’s people in a special way and won’t allow the people, in the unrestrained exercise of selfish desires, to destroy themselves and their world however much evil they connive to generate.
The belief in “saviors” has kept Earthians from taking personal responsibility in the changing scheme of things on Earth. It created a “conservative” view of life that tends to see the past as “the good old days” and develops no serious or in-depth working analysis of its future on this world. So each generation is left to fly by the seat of its pants, always seeking direction from the past. If any forward-looking is done at all, it is short-sighted and unreliable because there are no seers and the methods used are statistical.
Is Earth special? No.
Is the whole universe going through some great transition at this time? No.
Are the changes seen (or imagined) on Earth part of some great divine cosmic plan or event of which earth is the focal point? Crass egotism.
Yes, earth is in a period of transition and Earthians make up the major part of this process as the most evolved species. They are being forced, by their knowledge, numbers and technology to move with this transition – to accept a change that will force them to let go of their childish expectations of divine or alien benevolent intervention in their stupid (and evil) collective behavior. If the transitional force could speak, it would have said long ago: “You can pay me now or you can pay me later. There is no escape.”
Earthians are way past the period when their knowledge and abilities demanded they take responsibility for their world. It would have been relatively easy had they done so millennia ago. When there were still teachers, way-showers, avatars walking among the people. When the problems were not as complex. Even in the last century, contemporaries to some of us arose and sought to move Earthians into the arenas of “power” – of personal responsibility through compassion and the sharing of power. Although they posed less of a threat to the status quo than had the old ones, they were murdered by the conservative mind-set that fears and hates change.
Earthians over the years became like those professional students who hang about universities at great cost to their parents and society in general. The knowledge they acquire has no value and contributes nothing to any advancement of society. So it has been, as is quite evident today, with Earthians as regards their world. Collectively they have plundered, raped and murdered their way through life, some in small ways, some blatantly. The greatest pillagers, killers, oppressors are the who’s who; the “great men” of history.
That history, of which many are proud, is the dirge of this current mentally and morally stunted generation. The transition is taking place but by and large Earthians are oblivious to it, uncaring, too busy surviving, accumulating, securing, to pay attention to any new set of directives. The writing is on the wall again, only this time it is not directed only at one foolish dictator-king and his royal court: it is for the entire Earthian species and no one is calling for an interpreter, so busy are they all making money, making war, making love, entertaining themselves by any and every means imaginable to the senses. (For those inclined to check out this reference, see the Biblical Book of Daniel, chapter 5. Keep in mind that the Book of Daniel is also an apocalyptic message.)
Since the very first prophecies were uttered the story never varied regarding the ultimate fate of man and his earth. The evil that man does in every generation accumulates as a debt that nothing but a wholesale “turning” can hope to wipe out. No one can save mankind – no one. Earthian humanity is left to its own devices in deciding its final fate. A great transition is taking place and Earthians, by and large, are completely unprepared to cross the chasm that it is opening.
What is money but a symbol of energy exchange?
All of life in duality is based on synergy – or for those who do not understand, energy exchange in
a way that ‘completes’.
When we use money, we are symbolically ‘moving’ energy from a person or group of people into the hands of another.
To move energy using money is the most ineffective and wasteful method possible. This is not because the symbol is defective, but because of the ‘expectations’ that have accrued to the handling of money. Call it greed, if you will.
People do not see the energy when they see money. They see the symbol, and to them it means a certain kind of power. Money can buy stuff! (Why is it called “stuff” by the way?) Why does a coloured piece of paper, or numbers on a certain magnetic plastic card, have value? Because someone places that value on it.
Where does the value originate? Normally, it should originate with the one(s) who gave up their energy. The energy of labour, or resource – even of life(!) is transmuted into a numbers system, and if that system was pure, without ‘leaks’ (greed) the numbers should then translate back most of that energy content to the recipient of the symbol: money. (One must always factor in the law of constant energy which states that in any energy transfer the total output of energy tends to be less than the total input. This is known as entropy.)
It does not work that way. First, because most ‘labor’ is not given, but is forced. Labor energy is extracted from workers. A worker cannot, under the current system, exchange her/his work directly for other things. S/he needs the work converted by the System, into the numbers system called money.
Because money is given artificial value as a commodity on its own (a blatant lie!) it has to be controlled, protected. The person who lives for money, usually a very rich and powerful individual, or group of individuals, require protection. This means that the money which the laborer (slave) receives for the labor will be greatly dissipated. Laws have to be enacted and upheld so the slave will remain docile, and will not attempt to short-circuit the system of money. This means government, big time. It means police forces and prisons. It means education, to ensure that the future slaves know their place in society and remain there. It means an army to protect one’s fief – province, country, empire – from the other rats.
All this “money” necessarily must come from energy. The basic form of energy that concerns us here is the labor of the slaves and the movement of solids - called 'natural resources'- taken from the surface and bowels of the Earth. It must also come from the transmutation of such solids into saleable objects: cars, planes, bicycles, radios, computers. It must also be transmutable into 'commodities' such as a woman's body (prostitution) or a house with a view, or trips, or insurance...
When all these things are bought and sold, what remains, carefully monitored so as not to throw the so-called “economy” out of balance, is what the slave receives as ‘pay’ – and this pay is also carefully monitored so that it ends back into the flow of the System, through a system of taxation, of fees, of endless costs of necessities such as heat, water, food, shelter, transportation and entertainment.
There will be no freedom as such on this world as long as a pathetically outmoded system of energy exchange such as money continues to rule, and to maintain its servants – the rich and the upper echelon bureaucrats – in power over the vast majority of “dummed out” slaves.
They say it’s Oh! so nice to fall in love
with one who melts your heart;
who makes you feel desired
and wanted in every way.
Yes, maybe it is, Oh! so nice
if he or she is free
from previous engagements!
How often I have seen this thing:
Yes, they fall and one significant other
is forgotten in their moment of passion
as lust rises like a tide; ebbs just as surely
leaving its strange but familiar stench
in some no-wo-man’s land.
Now comes the time for reckoning:
the lies flow easier every passing day
until that other notices the change
and asks: and always the same answer:
“Why would you think such a thing?”
But as the lies become smoother,
the conviction is equally less.
They always know; always find out
and the denied pain hits as a slap in the face.
That is the way of things.
Humans sell each other
to each other: for sex; for a song;
they lie together; lie to one another
for a promise neither can keep
but by an untrue self: time we grew up;
stop making silly promises to break.
We meet, we love, we do the thing
and when we return home it’s still OK.
For it is understood
that is the way of things:
True love will not be bound
or put in bonds, even if called “marriage.”
If we engage life across realities (I won’t speak for dimensional barriers – I’m not there yet) we discover intelligence. Not a static kind of “eternal” intelligence, but an endless series of permutations, calculations, changes; chaos molded into order and order falling prey to the pressure of change and swallowed into chaos to reappear as order somewhere else in totally different form.
The intelligence encountered “out there” that appears to feed and support reality (realities?) and in our case, what we term “nature” is nothing like our intelligence. It is not spiritual nor material nor organic. It appears to be based on mathematical formulae or rules, yet able to discard its rules and replace them with new ones at will. Why? It’s not an arbitrary choice. It knows when its rules no longer work in a particular paradigm and it changes the rules, even by allowing that paradigm to “die” by withdrawing support for it.
I was thinking about Murphy’s “Law” again today. It’s so enigmatic. Perverse and utterly unpredictable. Is it something evil? A game? Faulty programming? Or is it something essential to the Cosmic Mind’s way of re-arranging the patterns of life it engenders? I began to see this annoying “law” as something quite amazing. What it does is break our complacency about ‘the way things are’ and ‘the way things should be’ and ‘the way things must be.”
There is no such ‘way’ unless it is artificially pushed upon nature.
Earthians are more comfortable with a state of non-change than with change. Generally, the terms “statist” or supporter of the status quo fits the Earthian mindset. Establishment, Organization, Community, Institution: people will fight for these things, will die and kill for them. Yet they are all based on attachment. Attachment, when properly understood, is based on fear. Fear of losing; fear of being alone; fear of being unprotected or unloved. Fear of not belonging.
So what does Murphy's Law do? It shatters our belief systems. It makes the bread fall butter side down -- unless we expect it to do this - and then it likely will not. It tangles ropes and extension cords with great ease. Traps that end knot in a crack. The same thing, if it could be duplicated, could save lives; could simplify countless tasks. Imagine if you could throw screws down and they would all fall right-side up in the pre-drilled holes intended for them? I've seen that happen when I did NOT want it to happen. Who hasn't seen little useless "miracles" done by Murphy with his silly law?
Murphy is a teacher in a way. Probably he’s too humble to accept that term but we are so quick to call anyone with a trick a teacher (or leader of some sort). He keeps us aware that life is endless fields of possibilities. The little things that Murphy does constantly, so annoying, are a reminder that even the greatest movements in the universe are subject to permutations; to unexpected change. We have to be willing to accept that; to push the “sample” out into the Cosmos. As below, so above. We must move from the intellectual information that our sun will burn out in some billions of years (I forget the number – I didn’t think that even being vegetarian I’d outlive it anyway) and move that information into understanding; awareness; into some kind of cosmic empathy for those worlds that are currently faced with the catastrophe of their sun going super-nova when “it” wasn’t supposed to happen.
Basically, change demands that we become empaths. That’s what Murphy’s Law is supposed to do: make us into empaths. Make us ask the tough questions and work out the answers. That in itself is good. But we can do more. We are intelligent and self-aware also. That means we can, by force of mind, link our developing empathy with compassion. Compassionate empathy. Knowing what it feels like to feel like… another. Anywhere.
To be self-aware is to be aware of all other “selves” – from a photon to a universe. It means to experience life, not as bits of information but in its entire reality. And the vehicles that are powered by this “compassionate empathy”? Joy and Sorrow. Front and back door of life, known only by those who are utterly detached.
“When none of it matters, it will all be yours” [from my friend YLea – many years ago!]
As much as I resented being faced with that challenge then, I have no argument with it today. I now know that having it all means exactly that: to experience heaven and hell together, separate, or in bits and pieces as they cross my awareness and to not reject one in favour of the other. Curse if you must; pray if you have to, but there is no hiding from any of it.
Is that freedom or what?
These are the words I had in my mind: “Deliberate disinformation is deposited in a carefully woven web of ignorance to become humanity’s truth.”
At the Chilliwack Mall, there is a slogan on a billboard that says, “The only freedom we have is freedom of choice.”
The first clue this is a lie comes from the location – a place of retail business – where the only valid energy is the taking of individuals’ money in exchange for trinkets nobody really needs…
Let’s look at freedom of choice: If we truly had “freedom of choice” we would never need any other freedom. Whatever we chose would be ours. That’s freedom of choice. I choose to have lots of money, and there it must be. I choose to go down that road, even though the bridge is out, and there I go, without any mishap. I choose to be happy, and no negative circumstance can change that. I choose to be perfect, and I never make mistakes.
If my “choices” do not manifest as such, then obviously I do not possess freedom of choice. I possess “choice” in my mind, but obviously it is not free. If I choose to drive down a road with the bridge out, the price will likely be disaster. If I choose to order a fancy meal knowing I have no money in my purse to pay for it, I will be in trouble.
Of course, we can “choose” to put the cart before the horse and say, “Yes, I have free choice. I can choose to not pay my taxes and go to jail. I can choose to speed and get a ticket. I can choose to live in fear.” If we put “freedom” BEFORE “choice” – then we have it, but it is a meaningless statement. Why work with meaningless concepts?
I do however, possess free will. Always. Even brainwashed individuals have free will. Will can always be recalled after it has been given away to another. Will, in my mind, is not a 3-D concept, whereas “choice” is. Will works with power; choice, more within the realm of moods, emotion: this today, that tomorrow, depending on an endless array of changing circumstances.
If we always live our will, we will never be bothered by “choice” because that then engages automatically, without having to deliberate on it. Choice is for those who have not yet made up their minds to be this or that, do this or that. When one’s will is fully engaged, empowered; when one lives by will-power, choices no longer matter. They will always be the right ones. What I mean is, the consequences of choosing in a state of self-empowerment will be fully known and accepted and however difficult, that will be part of the empowerment.
We could say that “choice” is weak because it can be legislated, whereas “will” cannot. Therefore, choice is never free, but will always is. If it can be legislated, it is not free. Also, choice without will power is always selfish. How well freedom fighters know this! They refuse, through will power, to abide by the rules of the despot and fight to the death. What appears to be “free choice” is exercise of will power.
Choice without will power or self-empowerment is not a good thing. It is what drives the marketplace and the destruction of the planet. If we look at the very short history of humanity on this world, we quickly see that freedom of choice has generally been disastrous for humanity and its world. Adam and Eve in Eden lived under the curse of choice; made the wrong one, broke God’s law and suffered terrible punishment for it. (Agreed, it’s possibly just an allegory, but it is our history: wrong choices made in ignorance that result in disaster.)
Conclusion? Our “rulers,” from God on down the pyramid of power, give us choices then guide our choices to our detriment. From our utter confusion, they reap chaos with which they feed themselves.
Gold! The word conjures up so many images in a man’s mind. Gold: how many lost their lives over the years, searching for the stuff? In the cry of ‘Gold’ you still hear the movement of desperate men and women of some hundred years ago chasing after the sudden windfall, the sudden riches which would, once and for all change their lives from misery to opulence; from scratching a living to ordering an army of servants; from the tent and the tar paper shack to the mansion overlooking the sea by the Golden Gate bridge…
Yes, the cry of ‘Gold’ sent many a hero and scoundrel to his death on treacherous mountain trails, through blizzards and sand storms and at the hands of bandits and highwaymen… Gold.
Why does the word so move man? Where did the idea that gold has any intrinsic value originate from? Something must have made man believe in its value, or the cry of ‘Gold!’ would have no more power than that of “Lead!”
Somewhere along man’s path, along his evolutionary ladder, gold became important… and then, something else happened to make him forget the why’s of it, but to remember its importance… like so many other human beliefs which have their roots deep into the unwritten, unrecorded past. There is a story about gold which may well be the truth. You don’t have to believe it, of course, being rather far-fetched, but humour me and listen to it.
Thousands of years ago, before the last rather devastating earth changes, the earth was very lightly populated as humans go. There were, however, human-like beings on this planet. These beings were what we would now call ET’ or UFOnauts. They were attracted to this world primarily because of the relative abun¬dance of minerals, and especially, gold. Gold featured prominently in the design of their space vehicles and communications, and since these beings lived as space pirates, so to speak, they needed a world located somewhat outside the trade routes of the galaxy. As we all know, this solar system does hold such a discrete position…
With a free hand here, they proceeded to mine the precious stuff. For hundreds of years, they toiled in their mines, mostly in the area of South Africa area until one day the workers rebelled, put down their laser cutters and marched upon the home of their bosses. Since the workers outnumbered the rulers 100 to 1 and since the rulers, so-called could not even pilot their own vessels without the willing cooperation of their workers, a deal had to be struck. The deal was that a species of semi-human beings would be cloned to work the mines, and to toil in the fields, another task not enjoyed by a once proud race of space raiders.
After much experimentation, these masters of the earth created a being in shape resembling themselves, but with an altered DNA to prevent him from ever attaining to the level of intelligence of his masters and creators. It is from this story, from this earliest times of the Earthean race, that come the tales of Eden and such like. It is from this also that come the rest of the tales which show, as best they can, how man fooled his creators and was able, even with his truncated DNA, to reproduce (the fall of man and his expulsion from Eden!) and to finally free himself of his tyrannical masters. As the story goes, the daughters of man were very beautiful and desirable, such that the ‘gods’ or creators were delighted by them and began to have sex with them. Eventually, such contact did result in pregnancy, as the creatures were physically perfect. The children of these clones had superior intellect and physique. It was these, called the Nephilim, or ‘the heroes of old’ who fought the gods and forced them off the planet. It was these who became man’s new rulers. It is debatable whether man was any better off, but as you can see, despite my digressions, man, though he no longer had any need for it, still sought gold, believing it to be as precious to him as it had been to the ‘gods’. This is why man’s rulers have had a predilection for the substance ever since, usually wearing it ostentatiously on their bodies, or smearing it over their utensils, household items or even their homes and palaces. You see, it is to do with breeding, nothing with common sense!
I will end this little story by saying this: man, you still have a long way to go before you understand yourself, but your past re-discovered might give you that understanding! Perhaps in a few hundred years, the cry of ‘Gold!’ will leave you indifferent, or just bring a slight smile of remembrance to your lips…
Walking upon a steep path,
past tall, brooding evergreens,
I come upon a sunlit meadow
alight with blooming anemones.
Here I stop to rest and ponder.
Across a small green valley
rises the rugged mountain
I dared myself to climb;
its bleak, silent peak hidden
in a bank of ominous grey clouds.
As I consider this climb
in forbidding terrain,
a gust of summer wind whispers:
“There will always be things
along the road of life
which are not clear, or create fear
but don’t let your doubts
undermine a winning hand.
Though your eyes may not see
the path unwinding
or the obstacles strewn along the way,
there is a part of you that always knows:
trust this knowing, for it knows
the ways hidden from the senses.
Let inner wisdom guide you
and you will surely arrive
at your destination.”
“The world has changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was, is lost; now none lives who remembers… It [the Downfall] began with the forging of the great rings…” [Fellowship of the Ring – J.R.R. Tolkien]
Most are familiar with these opening lines from “Fellowship of the Ring” – the movie. It briefly returns to an earlier time in Middle Earth when Elves, Dwarves and Men fought against Sauron; how Isildur cut the master Ring from Sauron’s hand and the great Enemy was defeated. Then Isildur was led by Elrond to the fires of Mount Doom and urged to throw the ring in the fires. Isildur refused. He was killed by rogue orcs and the ring disappeared for 2000 years until found by Gollum. 500 years later Bilbo the Hobbit stole the ring from Gollum and brought it to the Shire. Thus begins the tale of the final war against Sauron.
Tolkien, I believe, did not write to entertain. He wrote an epic tale that describes, through fantasy, our history… certainly from a distant past and perhaps into a distant future. The trick for us is to discern where, in the story, we find ourselves. When we look at the pattern, what part do we recognize and identify with? Who is Mordor? Who is Gondor? Who is Rohan? As for Dwarves, Elves and Hobbits… are they aliens? Angels? Ascended Masters? Spirit guides? Or simply different races of men?
I had a dream last night which was too complex to describe. The gist of it – the lesson – was that a young woman, deemed to be a prostitute, was being chased by two cops when a group of men she had befriended hid her and allowed her to escape. This woman then had a conversation with an interviewer for a women’s magazine. “You were lucky to escape. You’d be in jail now.” “Yes” she answered. “How strange it is that a world that no longer recognizes morality in any form would still throw a woman in jail simply for giving a man that which he needs and which only she can provide. They call that immorality. But they fight wars over finite resources and kill millions directly or indirectly – and that’s just good business, or necessity.” The interviewer was less than happy with her response.
“The world has changed…” Yes, in many ways the world has changed. We can see it, smell it, hear it. Some of the old patterns have broken down. Others become totally twisted. New ones have taken their place. Thrift has become debt. Noise is synonymous with power. Success is measured by accumulation, perhaps better called hoarding. In most modern appurtenances, including housing developments, ugliness and impracticality rule. Numbers fuelled by waste have replaced common sense reality. Television and the Internet have become sources of knowledge and wisdom.
“Much that once was, is lost.” Some time ago, not so long, one could go outside and look at a clear blue sky. Hear the wind in the trees or a stream gurgling below a small rise, or smell the air and know it was spring or fall, or whether it was going to rain, snow, clear up, get warmer or colder. At night the stars shone brightly and the sky was alive. One could hear birds singing, even in the night. Frogs and coyotes provided the evening music and singing. The darkness was friendly.
Given, it wasn’t an idyllic world. But it had great potential. That potential was taken for granted and lost. Stolen is a better description. Stolen because of apathy to the creeping darkness within the human collective soul that allowed the Great Predators of the modern era to claim the earth and all that dwells therein.
“Now none lives who remembers.” Or care to remember. At the time it would have taken a bit of effort to make the world a better place. It would have required knowledge (experience) of what really makes a world a beautiful place. But people chose to believe in information rather than their own wisdom. So within a few generations, all the wisdom of history was scattered, thrown away. To speak wisdom now is as effective as throwing water on a duck’s back. If it doesn’t come in the form of forcefully loud, screaming information in 3-D video displays, it isn’t heard. And in that format, it is not wisdom but entertainment.
There are those people today who do look to nature, but not for wisdom. They do so in expectation of “earth changes” meaning some violent disaster happening to someone else, somewhere else. Or in the hope of suitable weather for expensive and destructive vacation/week-end escapades.
Current generations are lost, with every “next” being more so. The darkness spreads – pushed inexorably by rising numbers and dwindling “cheap” natural resources. The search for more “resources” accelerates, as do costs, to be shared by the environment (nature) and consumers alike. These exacerbate deteriorating social conditions. Fear, anger, distrust are creating a dangerous latent force now channelled by global infotainment into mindless consumerism. These in turn will bear their fruit: denied apathy and finally, despair.
When the System finally implodes from its irrational, voracious greed – as it must – rage will explode. Along with that will come a wave of violence that will make the 20th Century’s seem as mere training exercises.
“There is a way that seems right unto a man, but the end of it is death.” (Proverbs 14:12)
The most terrible assumption made today is that we can continue in the way that seems right for now, even while fully aware that we cannot.
Reality: such a powerful word, isn’t it? But it is really just another meaningless term for something indescribable. What is reality but bits and pieces we call “order” formed from the tumbling chaos of infinity? Our personal imposed order upon everything we touch? We change what is to suit our desires or perceived needs, then we label that reality. The reality of the creator; the reality of the conqueror; the reality of the builder; the reality of the artist. We also cobble lesser realities from the greater and as we get comfortable with the lesser, we learn to deny the existence of the greater.
Let’s look at a particular political reality through the concept we call “democracy” – a powerful reality in the so-called Western world. But as a reality, what is democracy? The most accurate description of it would be “the tyranny of the minority cloaked in the mask of the majority.” From despotism to democracy, nothing changes. The same rulers, the same aristocracy, make all the rules and the same slaves obey or feel the lash. The same elite takes the lion’s share of the kill and the same providers crawl under the table scrabbling for bones and go hungry along with their children.
Democracy or not, if they resent this state of things enough to try and correct the imbalance, they suffer even more. In any system, the majority remains powerless to make significant or meaningful change. Thus political reality remains the order the elites impose upon their world.
That is one obvious example of how “reality” is whatever we believe it to be. We can just as easily move to religion or money. The same thing becomes transparently evident. The same elites make the same rules, impose the same order, create the same reality which the majority must accept as if it was its own.
Preceding reality, rivers of chaos without beginning or end carry energy through infinity. Here and there on the banks of these rivers grow settlements – a universe here, a galaxy there, a shepherd’s hut, a bird’s nest – little pockets of order painstakingly created, manifested, built, from stuff carried upon torrents of jumbled life in potential. To infinity, a universe or the head of a pin are the same size; have the same value: none. Infinity is never changed by whatever order is imposed upon it. For always the waves return and whatever was “ordered” is swept back into the flow. Nothing escapes the sweep of infinity’s hand: when the game is over, it’s over. The board and the pieces are thrown back into the stream to be shattered. If some bits survive and are deposited upon another shore well, that may become a marvel that defies explanation and lead to the creation of yet another reality – illusion based on illusion.
Reality is a finite illusion; the world more a circus than a stage.
But think about this: it takes great dedication and much training to be a circus performer. The circus teaches much more than the stage and those who learn the ropes may yet become creators of their own reality on some distant and totally alien shore. Remembrances – Others in Memory – joining hands with the singular dream to create something not only new but simply better.
For me this isn’t a question of hope or faith but a matter of logic and common sense. Why would I, knowing that life is infinite, allow myself to be limited to whatever the old gods offer? Some choices.
Riches that end in death -- the point being?
Progeny to carry on my name on some piece of tribal land? What hubris and foolishness!
Heaven or hell? Eternal these may be, but they remain finite prisons of conformity until they too are swept back into infinity’s stream when their game is over.
Acrobat or clown, having empowered myself to create a new reality, why would I repeat the mistakes I made, observed or deduced from the past? I can do better, always. I carry the knowledge – infinity carries the potential. So it has always been and so it will always be. It’s a matter of personal willingness to be part of a more suitable bit of order – however evanescent.
When we create something do we not do it for the “doing” of it, and not for the lasting of it? That is the lesson of infinity to the creator. And how easily the creator forgets this wisdom by falling in love with its creation!
In small waves
they first came,
testing the waters
and the shores
of a new land
then more came
up and down
the seashore they went
whatever they found.
There were others
left no trace
no pain Pagans
whose lack of faith
in a God of love
caused them to care
to love to maintain
a good earth for those
following behind --
doing as had their forebears
for thousands of years before
tired of the seashore
depleted its resources
a land of dreams
of vast untapped resources
whose humanoid population
with pagan religions
God’s righteous decree
that all humanity be
or have no claim
to the earth…
the trumpet call
repeating biblical history
to inherit the blessing of God
in their promised land
and bless them, He has:
with violence and bloodshed
with hate and fear
with slavery to self
with money and power
to buy and to sell
with the ‘exalted’
of becoming the prime movers
of the destruction of earth
and all that is in it!
“…In Thy Holy Name, O God
we shall destroy…”
sang the hordes of locusts
trampling the prairie grass
in pagan blood.
as sculptured from clay
are her legacy to me.
If one could still see
deep into her shining eyes
he would see a sunrise
over a virgin paradise!
He would see her run
impetuous and free-
a wild mare with flowing mane
chasing after the wind
along an endless shore.
Memories they may be,
but the beautiful eyes
sparkling with fire
reflected in water;
the sensual body
yearning to be loved
the gentle voice
laughing in the waves
are my reality.
Though she has become
these remain strong, vibrant,
and will never vanish…
And neither will the love
she left imprinted
in the heart of eternity.
Did man land on the moon
or was the event faked in a studio
(As America’s most expensive and famous
And what difference will it make
should we ever discover the truth of it?
If faked, it certainly has the qualifies of a great show
but does this mean we no longer trust
Governments, news media, scientists, lobbyists
for deluding us? For lying and scheming?
Would that be new? Really?
But if it happened as they claim
(and a good video is worth a thousand lies)
that the men who returned from
some billion dollar jaunt in space
(purchased from the working poor
to enrich a gang of kleptocrats)
were the same men who left and
they really had moon dust on their mukluks,
then what? Does this fact
change anything? Change everything?
This is not a question of some accomplishment-
after all what came of it?
It’s a question of trust. Not just any trust
but trust in the basic workings of the System.
And here’s the thing:
we know they lie, cheat and steal
with every opportunity they create,
For ‘they’ it is who have their bloody hands
firmly gripping the gang-switches of power,
to turn on, and to turn off, at will and whim,
and we it is who must swallow their lies
(and of course pay for them).
So did what’s their names
really walk on the moon,
or were we utterly and maliciously
“mooned” by con men and Capital Jokers?
Picture of perfection, as in a dream…
Who are you waiting for… or what?
What are you dreaming of?
Are you even aware
of the gentle beauty of your face;
the caressing softness of your silken skin?
But let me see what made me turn…
No, not your irresistible flesh,
but a glimpse at the backroads of your mind;
a moment standing at the crossroads of your heart,
seeing the you who lingers, wondering,
between waxing and waning realities --
the you who exudes perfection
yet chooses not to acknowledge this,
thus leaving a piece
of your perfect picture
are the future makers?
Are they the ones
dare to dream
dare to think,
dare to live,
dare to see,
dare to walk
dare to question?
dare to dream new dreams,
dare to think new thoughts,
dare to live life upside down,
dare to see the new in the old,
dare to walk the unknown
dare to ask new questions?
are the future makers?
In my endless wondering
I arrived at the edge of thought:
What do I want? (Or want to be?)
I thought of the things this life offers
It’s all been done, and seldom well.
What do I want? (To be?)
Something different, of course.
Something not found on the beaten path
to success, glamour or glory.
I know: I want things
no longer considered of any value
(except by those who write books, mostly fiction)
things like Honor.
Well, OK, these are not to be found
in a Church, a Bank, or a Parliament Building.
They certainly won’t be found
in a Military Academy, or a Court of Law.
They’re not on McDonald’s menu
and last I look the Dollar Store didn’t have them either.
I guess I’ll have to make them
in my own back yard
and try them on the neighbors.
I hope I don’t frighten them too much,
or shock them out of their comfort zone
and get beaten out of town or jailed!
Still, it’s an interesting thought:
I won’t have to stand in line
or check my credit at the Bank:
for these things are still available free,
riding past all of us on the Cosmic web
and few are those who even think
of grabbing a handful for themselves.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
so it has been said.
But what is the source of beauty?
Nature is the maker of images
but not the creator of beauty
for beauty lies in the realm of perception.
It was man who, upon experience of ecstasy
thought beauty into existence.
It was man who said: thou art lovely my love
and thus elevated the mundane
into the realm of the sublime.
It was man who trapped himself
into thoughts higher than himself
and found he could not live
according to the visions he gave himself
from a world he could not comprehend
but could only sense.
Thus man cursed himself to die
burning from within with fire,
with a desire and a passion unquenchable
for in his human nature
as received from his own creator
he could never hope to fulfill
the thoughts he created of himself.
Thus it is now man’s gift to re-create himself
from his passion and his desires,
with his awakened sense of beauty,
into a new beingness, a new creation -
no longer dependent upon another for life
but utterly upon himself – alone:
Man, having reached his Omega point
empowers himself to become the Alpha.
I dreamt life was really simple:
it was a picture in the mind;
it was a page in a photo album;
it was a child’s colouring book
with plenty of room to add pictures of your own:
that’s all it really was…
So, I went up a hill
overlooking a sprawling City called Anywhere
and I took a picture.
of high-rises, and smog, and garbage;
of clogged streets and factories and arcades
among which humans crawled, walked and worked
it seems, so unhappily:
no one had yet put the smiles on their faces.
I scanned my picture later in the day
and saw all the things I didn’t like,
so I erased them very gently,
careful to leave the people
and all the pretty, natural, wonderful things
holding their place in time and space.
Then I added all the things I do like
and found deep joy in my picture,
so I took it to bed with me
and put it under my pillow
thinking that in doing so,
life would be simple again, hoping,
in love I would dream
the dream of transformation.
If you’re a commuter to the City…
be careful when you enter its streets
in the morning!
A surprise or two may await you there
in the morning! In the good morning!
Autumn came too early:
one storm followed another
and leaves began drifting
silently in the cold wind.
The sun peered meekly
through denuded branches
casting uncertain shadows
upon the twisted mat
of flattened Autumn grasses.
On a lonely stretch of road
I passed a tired soul:
I turned back to look,
and when he turned his face
in the faint light
I saw that he was me.
Time is the artist
who paints age upon the world:
though we find Autumn leaves beautiful
not so the lines upon our faces;
the bony knobs on once limber fingers
that caressed a lover’s tender skin
or skimmed skillful over a keyboard.
Time is the artist:
what school did he attend
that he is so limited in scope?
Where was he taught
the necessity to age his models so?
Who buys his finished masterpieces
when they lie within the grave?
Time is the artist:
his teachers are from Earth’s school
for what he expresses,
is but the collective belief of a race
caught helpless in death’s patterning.
I wish, Oh, how I wish!
I could speak to him as I stand
behind his easel today.
Though young and pretty and full of life
I stand thus for this master,
I wish he’d see into my heart
and not paint those telltale lines
around my eyes today.
I took a walk I’d hoped would be pleasant
on a cold, wet and windy day
and how I wished the sun had shone;
how I wished for a soft, warm breeze
to warm my face and hands today.
My troubles hound me like a cold wind;
like a driving November rain.
They penetrate my clothes;
keep my heart in their icy grip;
keep me from the love I seek to share;
they numb my hands: and I cannot touch.
There is a way out of this;
a place beyond these troubles of mind;
where bitterness is washed away
as rain washes down a street.
There is a way to see;
a way to skirt potholes and cracks
on the uneven road of life;
a way to not stumble, nor to fall;
a way, a sure way, a final way
to replace fear with love.
How? Consciously choosing
to transform the fear-filled mind.
Isn’t “truth” a relative term?
However one says
‘I swear to tell the truth
the whole truth
and nothing but the truth’
… one may as well say:
‘I swerve to smell the soup,
the toll booth
and nuts sing on the roof!’
(with apologies to Jim Unger)
What is truth?
Only that which someone accepts.
Truth to a system is that
which the system accepts as such.,
which the system sees as beneficial (to itself)
(and a human is a system)
True lies? All lies are true,
else, how could they be called lies?
There is nothing else but truth:
all is truth, however you shake it
shape it, express it:
for if you believe it, it is your truth.
But if another does not, it is a lie,
but to be a lie,
it must be a true lie, or it is no lie.
Nothing is impossible:
that is, it is impossible
for something to be nothing
and so it is with truth.
If you say: “That is a lie”
you are making a true statement;
validating the lie as truth.
“Who is minding this store?
How do you go about converting
a mad mix of self-indulgent cultures
into the crew of an inter-stellar space ship?”
[Philip Jenkins – Tower to the Sky]
We have eyes to see – to observe an increasingly complex material universe and a second sight to shed light on the complexities that arise in the mind when observation forces us to see what we would rather not. In my religious days, this second “sight” was called the spiritual eye. This is the “all-seeing” eye which Earth’s gods and illuminati have so desperately sought to keep tightly shut within their human drones. I say they have done a masterful job, so far. It has cost them, mind you. They have had to continually stir up the pot, turn the heat up. Invent “natural” disasters, diseases, wars and other fun distractions, over and over. Modern technology, mind, has been a great help to them. It is hard to kill millions upon millions waiting for some disaster to strike or fighting wars with swords, spears and bows.
Speaking of distractions, a funny thing happened the other day. I happened to overhear the TV in someone’s house. I heard the news verbalized. And I was hearing a 25 year old replay – the approximate time I haven’t watched television. Same voice, same words, same “tragedies” and the same “famous” people doing the same stupid things. I had noticed this with televised sports also. In a pub, I happened to glance at the TV and there was a hockey game on. Curious, I watched for a few minutes. Indeed: same arena, same players, same moves, same rules, same whistles, same onlookers, same commentaries. Not a thing had changed in 25 years. Yikes!
You can move this observation into the religious, political and commercial arenas as well. The same promises, same gimmicks, and predictably same response from same general public.
What would you call this in a laboratory? The Pavlov dog experiment, of course. But why would people who believe themselves to be intelligent even give a moment’s interest to this divinely inspired tripe? Duhhhh, I dunno… pass me another beer, Sam…
As much as I dislike traveling, it is good to remove oneself from one’s town to another, even if just a few hours away. There will be interesting differences, mostly due to size of the town, economic climate, time of year (if a tourist or seasonal crop area, for example) or topographical change. And there will be staggering similarities which to the open mind, could lead to claustrophobia.
The ubiquitous fear of thieves, vandals and of course bad drivers; the deliberate noise making; and the lifestyles of the debt-riddled pseudo-rich and not-famous. It's like not having moved at all -- like no matter where one goes, if one has become aware and looks upon earth's humanity from some other than system perspective, earth is a closed closet. Gasp!
We live in an age of super-abundance of information and yet I have never encountered so much crass ignorance. To be ignorant (unable to form a personal opinion) has become a drug – a means to block off the ever-expanding negative aspects of urban and suburban “life”. Groupings tend towards general ignorance and endless concerns with bodily comforts – even when such “comforts” are clearly destroying planet, body and mind. But then, isn’t that the point of educated ignorance – to ensure that the victims of the good life cannot see its deadly side-effects?
On the positive side: I discovered while “there” that I can no longer call any place “home”. There is a kind of scary freedom in this. I can interact with any society, any species, on any world for that matter, and being a “star traveler” I can only form PERSONAL opinions about all things. Yes, correct: another’s opinions (or findings of opinion polls!) are meaningless to the self-empowered.
In the quest for the “better answer” to everything you have to reach a level where all answers, no matter who voices them, remain unsatisfactory – including your own. That may well be the secret key to understanding life: that there is no satisfactory (or complete) answer to anything. That everything is open-ended, poised on the edge of infinity, waiting for something to “materialize” in order to jump further.
“Where to, admiral?”
[Star Trek – The Journey Home]
Through the coming storm
I feel, I see, a mighty vision
of a beautiful, powerful woman:
unlike any I’ve ever known,
her wisdom, her love, she shares
with any one who dares.
In my visions I feel this love,
as powerful as a prairie storm;
as mighty as a flooding river;
as gentle as a Summer breeze
over flowered meadows;
as shape-shifting as waves
shaping a sandy shore;
as pure as crystal waters
from a mountain spring;
as soft as a bed of green moss;
I can feel her now
as I walk out behind the storm:
in the freshness of the air;
arriving with the emerging sun
to greet my heart, to share a day
in the great harmony.
She will go, I know,
to gift a hungry world waiting;
with the power to create change
within the vagaries of life
and I let her go,
without any sense of loss
for she abides in my heart.
I dreaded the idea
of walking life’s road alone,
but I had no choice, so I thought
and set forth, wondering
what she might offer,
or take from me.
Just in case,
I packed a solid load of memories
to nibble on along the way.
Then I felt something as the wind
whisper, not unkindly:
“I’ve taken many such a road:
the trick is to let go
the relentless, restless, hands of time.
Lighten up – let go the past:
it cannot bring “back”
what it never had!
Oh, and something else
you may find of use when aloneness
pokes her gnarled finger at your heart:
you’re never alone!
But if you forget, never mind:
I’ll ruffle your hair by and by.”
Creation: worlds in chaos -
the push and pull
of opposing energies
within the cauldron of duality.
“Nature” at work – or play!
But insert the tiniest bit of judgment:
the nature of the world is changed -
in an instant,
perfection in evolution
becomes “sin” being committed!
By definition of judgment-
though not by design,
the entire creation
is but one vast expression of ‘sin’!
The question, then,
is not “How do we stop sinning?”
but “How do we stop judging?”
and should we find the answer
to this monumental riddle,
we are left with the easy part:
all that judgment has ruined
since its inception.
Easy? Did I say, “easy”?
Oh, excuse me, I meant,
“Easy by comparison
to ridding planet earth of judgment.”
A pale sun filters hesitant
through a thin layer of November cloud:
It’s morning – I’m walking down town;
I meet a man I’ve known a while.
He carries a host of serious health problems
the combination could certainly
cut his uncertain hold on life any day.
The knowledge does not embitter him;
he does not lash out nor seek to blame
someone, or something
for his many and painful problems.
He still enjoys life it would seem,
and he does not judge anyone
for how they live their share of that life.
He still likes watching the day come alive
as the sun appears over rocky peaks
on a clear morning.
What keeps this man from giving up?
From saying enough is enough?
Is it because he sees his world
from a different perspective than most?
And I ask myself: what can I learn
from this man’s passion for life?
Perhaps something as obvious, simple
and difficult as this:
problems are never solved
by running away from them -
they must be faced each day head on
and each day conquered
or allowed to go free so I too may be free.
It’s there – for all to see were they not blind:
it doesn’t work – but no one can see it; not even you,
not until it collapses in your lap:
when the hopes and dreams
shatter as glass when a rock is thrown
and children run laughing
while another screams inside a dark house.
Isn’t it amazing what we settle for?
What we convince ourselves of?
There is the tried and true and failed -
Oh yes, failed, utterly failed -
but what can one do? It’s all there is, isn’t it?
We are born into society – a pattern set in cement -
and even if we notice (too late)
the cement is cracked and crumbling
no one is pouring fresh stuff down here.
Let’s see, what are the options
for the budding human’s dreams?
There’s church – some kind of religion
so you can get hooked on God – the Great One
who’s more silent than the grave;
family – parents and siblings and fights
followed by separation and divorce
and relocation to another school.
There’s government – you register to pay
everyday of your life and beyond;
school – education – to make you fit in
and teach you to walk with eyes wide shut.
There's work - you have to make money --
it’s what makes it all go round and down.
There's repetition: your own family --
“The Home Environment”
(translate please) -- certainly, read:
the confining straights of marriage
and kids and responsibilities no one ever taught --
you fly by the seat of your pants
and you remain afloat – maybe -
or you lose and fall and lose again.
And at that point there's jail --
you had your good times
they brought you too low and you couldn’t climb out
so they scoop you off the sidewalk,
in cuffs you watch your shiny stolen car
burn inside the basement of a house
and an ambulance screams away.
Stop, you say, stop already --
it's not that bad, not for most --
and sadly I have to agree, it is not:
most accept the middle road, the common ground.
They warm the pews, fill the voting booths,
sit at desks half asleep and they commute,
commute, commute, commute -
like the beat of a train’s steel wheels
on a badly laid track --
I owe, I owe, it’s off to work I go
to the job and back from the job, to and fro,
and it all becomes the same, blurred, wasted --
somehow mixed with forgotten dreams
remembered once or twice at a party.
And hope, what happened to hope?
Well, it's still there, somewhere --
in the shoe closet, in the doghouse
the baby’s crib or the barbecue.
Sometimes it’s in the hot tub
and sometimes in a boat or swimming pool.
Or a promotion for him.
Mostly it's in maxed-out loans and mortgages --
All just enough to stave off the divorce,
Dreams and hopes become memories
written on a note lying limp
between the fingers of the deceased
and the coffin’s lid is shut for the last commute:
the roll down hell’s door into the furnace. Amen.
“And the people shall bow and say, ‘Amen’ together
then shall they depart from this place to eat and drink,
and they shall continue… continue… continue…
and whatever they may have learned here
shall be wiped from their memory.”
That is the real story.
White: an empty canvass waiting for the
splash of colour
White: wispy, aimless, rainless clouds
teasing a parched land
White: fog: hiding, camouflaging, confusing
changing without change
White: sun-fearing, hiding, creeping, silent
death sucking saprophyte
White: superior human skin, vain and proud,
afraid of light
White: creaseless virgin sheets proudly
White: snowy web of changeless lifelessness
inert time before life
White: garments of prejudice preventing
perceptions of shame
White: ghostly night-wrought smell of death
illuminated by a burning cross
White: the spectral mantle of power ruling
White: purity without the mark of passion
shade of nothingness.
Sunny Sunday morning
and I noticed her again,
the woman in the park
sitting quietly near a shrub
among the waving daffodils.
Quiet she may have been
but the gaze that met mine
said so many things.
I first saw sorrow
but it was not for herself
for I saw compassion
when she looked over the city;
then I saw wonder
at the beauty that surrounded her;
I saw amusement
in a pair of clumsy ducklings
waddling through the grass;
I saw laughter
when a child handed her a flower
and finally, I saw love
when I offered her my hand.
These books contain a form of free verse poetry, essays, short stories, thoughts, opinions based on observation, and some humour and imagination, engaging the heart as well as the mind. A critical look at many current issues intriguing and plaguing man. Spirituality, interaction with nature and environment, social changes, dwindling resources. Well worn issues now, indeed. But the poetry and other works in these books gives this subject a different perspective. I daresay that here we can find a "higher" vantage point from which to look at ourselves within the cosmos.