What can I say except
OH MY GOD!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It all makes sense now!
How could I have been so blind?
*grins maddly while doing a happy dance and throwing flowers at everyone*
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“What if you slept? And what if, in your sleep, you went to heaven and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower? And what if,when you awoke,you had the flower in your hand? Ah, what then?”
― Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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cheers!
do tell what tipped you from blindness
Watch out for those flowers love, they're liable to change colors unexpectedly - psychadelic patterns - scented textures - or maybe they'll exhale flocks of fat bumble bees and morph into dragonflies - just keep an eye out!Originally Posted by Imzadi
Ooh, pretty!
*catches flowers... puts them in vase*
“What if you slept? And what if, in your sleep, you went to heaven and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower? And what if,when you awoke,you had the flower in your hand? Ah, what then?”
― Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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My 16-year-old indigo going on last night about her boyfriend and his ex-girl friend and her opinion of life in general and politics in particular. The three little ladies sitting across from me on the bus this morning who put me in mind of the Greek Fates. The scent of freshly-baked croisants coming out of the bakery when I disembarked from the subway. The sound of the seagulls calling to each other as the fly above the capitol building.
Everything.
and the stillness in between.
But if you want particulars - bear with me - it's going to take a bit of explanation, and I want to get my words right...
“What if you slept? And what if, in your sleep, you went to heaven and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower? And what if,when you awoke,you had the flower in your hand? Ah, what then?”
― Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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thats golden sshenry, especially three daugthers having a mom like you.
i know what you mean about needing exact words,
the stuff that pushes us to see the beautyness is individually triggered, for me (technically speaking) its stressing a threshold until its breached.
*grabs sshenrys hand and joins in with dance of joy*
im so happy for you. LOVE
actually - I only have two daughters - the three little ladies on the bus were just that...three little ladies - none of them over 5 foot. Three little dark-skinned ladies, probably 20, 40 and 60 (maiden/mother/crone?) They were dressed almost identical in the same color (differnet style) coats - their pants were cream, beige and brown respectively, with hats to match. Each of them was clutching a handbag on their lap, had glasses of the same shape - and each of them had their eyes closed and uplifted expressions on their faces.
They got on and off at different stops - but in the middle - sitting there in a row - I couldn't help but stare... and grin stupidly at the oddness of it all
As for my daughters, thank you - both of them, at different times, have told me that they waited for me because they wanted me to be their mother (!!!)
wow.
Let's see if I can finish that explanation...
“What if you slept? And what if, in your sleep, you went to heaven and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower? And what if,when you awoke,you had the flower in your hand? Ah, what then?”
― Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Thank you freedom! hugshugs hugs hugs hugs and a jig just for something different.
“What if you slept? And what if, in your sleep, you went to heaven and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower? And what if,when you awoke,you had the flower in your hand? Ah, what then?”
― Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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How to explain?
*draws extremely deep breath*Words are my life. I've been writing - using words to describe my experiences since I was old enough to hold a pencil - but this? This is different. I look for the words...there should be words that I can use to describe what happened this morning...what I'm feeling now...what I KNOW. But where are they?
They're stuck - the words are stuck - tied up in feelings so intense that they are next to impossible to seperate.
How do you describe the way that your heart swells when you hear a robin singing blythely in the pre-dawn mist?
How do you describe the ache inside your very being when you look at the face of your newborn baby?
How do you describe the deep-seated satisfaction that comes from feeling the deep rumble of a cat's purr under you're stroking hand?
You can't - not really. You feel them; these emotions. They stir something deep inside you, but they defy explanation. They have to be experienced.
So it is with what I am about to say. I mean no offense to anyone. I am not trying to put anyone down or downplay anyone's opinion's or views, but what I felt today...I have to share it. There are those who might not agree with me; who have different views or opinions, and I can't argue with you, I won't. That is your truth. This is mine.
~~~~~~~~Where to start? How about last night as I was washing dishes and listening to my 16-year-old telling me emphatically what was wrong with the world, and the rediculous statements being made about her by her boyfriend's ex?
I found myself grinning as she spoke and paused with my hands still in the water, staring at her, at the EMPHASIS with which she made her points, her absolute certainty that she is correct - HAS to be correct. What's she's saying makes sense, why can't everyone else see that?
This, I realized, this certainty, this absoluteness, is the ego in its growth form, it's natural habitat, for it begins with birth and develops over the years, resulting in the headstong impulses of youth impulses that drive them to seperate themselves from their parents, to prove their independence.
What would happen, I thought, if I told my daughter - right here and now - that she isn't really an individual but part of a greater whole? Like so many people she'd throw an absolute fit. "Hell, I'd fuss too" - was my first thought. Then it dawned on me that no, it would be my ego fussing. Egos thrive on sparateness - on uniqueness and physical individuality and independence.
My next thought, and one that fell on me like a ton of bricks, was "how could I possibly expain to her - to anyone - that you don't loose your self, not really, because the whole that you are a part of IS YOU."
I, SSHenry, am a piece of that whole. The piece that I am inhabiting RIGHT NOW - this is just "me" (the whole) experiencing myself as SSHenry, writer, mother, musician, storyteller, artists, wife and lover of beautiful things.
But I am also YOU. That's right - the person who is reading this right now - you know who you are. I'm experiencing myself as you - as the three women sitting on the bus across from me this morning - as the baby spitting up beets on his mother's white blouse in the restraunt - as the homeless man busking at the top of the Metro escelator.
I am the bird singing in the pre-dawn light and the newborn baby and the purring cat. I am the wind in the trees and the light playing on the river and the rock that I just stubbed my toe on.
I've had this knowledge - intelectually - for moths, years even. Knowledge that I had heard about, read about, accepted as true. But it wasn't until just last night - and this morning - (and a very comforting dream in between of being rocked in the arms of...well...lets just say being rocked in the arms of someone who really cared) that I felt the full meaning of it. Truly felt it -in every fiber of my being.
Felt it so intensely that I can't stop grinning.
In the Beginning I WAS.
And I became many so that I could experience myself.
My original intent was to send out the pieces of myself to experience myself so that I could gain self knowledge and then merge them back into the whole of me and so to become more.
But I do not wish to return to what I was, for I was alone, and now I am not.
I am with you.
I AM YOU.
I AM.
“What if you slept? And what if, in your sleep, you went to heaven and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower? And what if,when you awoke,you had the flower in your hand? Ah, what then?”
― Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Everything is empty! lets celebrate!
oneness or self realization?
oneness or self realization.
oneness or self realization!
The realization of self in oneness.
to realize that you are one with everything and to become one with everything....and the fading ego replaced with space, the space of it all
You are the wisdom, the power, & the light you seek. All answers lie within.
that's great sshenry....way to go!!!
YOU ARE.......I AM.......WE ALL ARE.......I AM........I AM THAT I AM
EVERYTHING AND NOTHING........INFINITY
The beautiful thing to celebrate was that, in reading this, I saw myself in you in return. We mirrored each other. A perfectly reflective object in a perfectly reflective space. Josiah McElheny's art, here
http://www.hubarts.com/photos/uncategorized/silver.jpg
This is where we are. Seeing ourself reflected in others reflected in our self seen by others. I am so glad you experienced this, it is wonderful, and thank you for sharing!
(And I like that you said busking. I love that word.)
you can say it. Others can read it, but that doesn't communicate it. It's funny because it is the obstacle, and the objective. The obstacle is still there though, and I'm quite certain we can't overcome it alone. Because the intent behind me writing this is self serving. Just like the intent behind you writing this is self serving.
survival is the game. Life the religion. My family my fortress.
which self governs ones communication, a 5d self talks in 4d about the 5d of 3d?
5dself (is, iam, intuitive, superconscious co-self) lets a you (xd) remember through text, tho that is 4dself (mind- contextual aesthetics- mass subconsciousness) picking it up, to be burdened for release through memory aid in 3dself (consciously looped matter of fact)
a 'personal intuitive self serving structure' of the moment. ridicoulosly simplified and linear, in yukky words from a techno-logical orifice! its really not to be spoken of, but 4dself insists.
@sshenry, that skool of ladies and the play of sounds and smells you describe, reminds me of orchestrated freespace, like feeling Fantasia and knowing it is.
Excellent artwork, thank you! Reminds me - I was so high last night that I went home and fell to painting (a hobby of mine) and the colors when I was done - the WAY the colors fell together...
A reflection of whats in my head I guess - I'll have to take a photo and upload it.
“What if you slept? And what if, in your sleep, you went to heaven and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower? And what if,when you awoke,you had the flower in your hand? Ah, what then?”
― Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Feeling. That's what its all about in the end. Its like having my eleven year old ask me what french kissing feels like.
I can tell her - in words. I told her - and the first thing out of her mouth was "Yuck" (thank god for that actually). While the whole time my 16-year-old was snorting with laughter.
We can't be told (well we can - and perhaps certain arrangements of words will help bring certain individuals closer to their own moment of awakening) but it has to be felt.
“What if you slept? And what if, in your sleep, you went to heaven and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower? And what if,when you awoke,you had the flower in your hand? Ah, what then?”
― Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Wonderful, simply wonderful...
Birds make great sky-circles of their freedom. How do they learn it? They fall, and falling, they're given wings
There's a strange frenzy in my head,
of birds flying,
each particle circulating on its own.
Is the one I love everywhere?
Drunks fear the police,
but the police are drunk too.
People in this town love them both
like different chess pieces.
In the tavern are many wines-the wine of delight in color and form and taste, the wine of the intellect's agility, the fine port of stories, and the cabernet of soul singing. Being human means entering this place where entrancing varieties of desire are served. The grapeskin of ego breaks and a pouring begins. Fermentation is one of the oldest symbols for human transformation. When grapes combine their juice and are closed up together for a time in a dark place, the results are spectacular. This is what lets two drunks meet so that they don't know who is who. Pronouns no longer apply in the tavern's mud-world of excited confusion and half-articulated wantings.
But after some time in the tavern, a point comes, a memory of elsewhere, a longing for the source, and the drunks must set off from the tavern and begin the return. The Qur'an says, -We are all returning. " The tavern is a kind of glorious hell that human beings enjoy and suffer and then push off from in their search for truth. The tavern is a dangerous region where sometimes disguises are necessary, but never bide your heart, Rumi urges. Keep open there. A breaking apart, a crying out into the street, begins in the tavern, and the human soul turns to find its way home.
It's 4 a.m. Nasruddin leaves the tavern and walks the town aimlessly. A policeman stops him. "Why are you out wandering the streets in the middle of the night?" "Sir," replies Nasruddin, "if I knew the answer to that question, I would have been home hours ago!"
~rumi
~many hands make the work light~
The wisdom of rumi never ceases to amaze and humble me
Namaste
“What if you slept? And what if, in your sleep, you went to heaven and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower? And what if,when you awoke,you had the flower in your hand? Ah, what then?”
― Samuel Taylor Coleridge
To view links or images in signatures your post count must be 10 or greater. You currently have 0 posts.
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