Guilt and Freedom

“I don’t tell you what to do and I’d appreciate it if you’d return the favor”. His eyes flashed with a repressed fury I had never witnessed before. We were sitting in the porch swing on an evening in the first months of our married life. My gentle comment suggesting that smoking less would be good for his health, drew forth this honest and true response. It has been a corner stone of our marriage ever since.

Recently, he and a friend were struggling mightily to replace a defunct washing machine. Moving the waterlogged thing was not easy. My normal instinct would be to hover in the back ground waiting to be called upon, or to be hard at work in equivalence with their hard work. I cannot rest if someone else is working or there is work to be done. No slacking! This does not mean I work efficiently – it means I have a constant feeling of guilt especially if someone else is working.

A friend of mine going through an emotionally  demanding life transition came to visit. I sat with her on the porch and we chatted. I jumped to fulfill occasional requests from the workers – “ Libby, can you find me a long nail?” , “Libby,  do you know where the short level is?” Richard is not an enthusiastic handyman.

How glorious it was to know that Richard was not judging me for sitting around while he was working. To know that he was not critical of me not working at my “job”, my art work – while he was working on maintenance. How marvelous to know that he was not thinking I should be doing something else.

I  had to work to pacify the naggers in my head. I have known others who did not comprehend nor give the magnificent gift of freedom.

The picture shows a broken toy gun. A marvelous symbol of Peace on Earth. I live in a peaceful world and I give thanks. I “pray” that peace goes outward.img_2890

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JOY. Theanthric joy.

Have you ever noticed how your spine can conform to the trunk of a tree; how you feel a great solidarity and unity when you lean into its life? A friend, diagnosed with cancer, found herself driving distraught on the highway and turned off into a forest park. The healing she experienced among the trees was at first a spiritual calm, it saw her though the process.  An Indian guru describes refusing to listen to Robert Frost’s poem because he thought “in a yellow wood” referred to a tree as “wood”  – a word with connotations of usage. Later, he made his followers sit in the sun as he spoke on and on, then finally let them get up and move into the shade of the nearby woods. They appreciated trees then in a whole new way.

A man sits cross legged on the dock by the river, clearly meditating. I wander among the trees and over the grass, my inner being singing “glo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ria, in excelsis deo…” as i look up into the glory of sun risen and clouds and blue.
I am the delight of humankind in its natural surroundings. The man is experiencing bliss without words, I experience bliss loaded with story. My story is my experience of  divinisation. I am my god concept. Imagine a consciousness that was only potential ( the cosmic egg) – once we all were this. Imagine this consciousness forms organs of sensation – foetuses reiterate the journey of life, starting as slime and evolving moveable parts and senses. Imagine this consciousness, now highly endowed with spider eyes and human eyes and skin and bark and scale, feather, fin, able to sense and move  in myriad ways – is aware in this moment. That is the case.
Imagine this consciousness is aware of itself as the universe; imagine this universe being aware of itself as a human being. That’s us !!

Imagine the cells of your body living and dying, coming and going, co-operating and creating and fulfilling their role in the greater whole. They do this. Imagine if humans comprehended that we too could live in co-operation as a larger whole. We would fly like birds and swim like fishes – all moving in ways that do not harm others, and yet create a collaborative dance – have you seen the murmuration of starlings? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eakKfY5aHmY its really worth checking this out.

We DO do this, our lives are co-ordinated largely and partially. Here we are. We are here to play – that is the emergent property of babies and baby humanity. Woop woop , rock on. Some tears, some stumbling. “People dying people crying. happy birthday” . May those in pain be comforted and those in need of help be helped. Our own conscience nags us to contribute if we listen to it. So much joy.murmurations5

The photo above is an excellent artist recreation – the only still image I found. The artist, Alain Delorme says, “far away you imagine starlings flying at sunset, but if you got closer you would realize that I have actually digitally assembled thousands of plastic bags. These “Murmurations” suddenly become “Ephemeral Plastic Sculptures” and their beautiful, almost calligraphic shape, a threat, hiding our horizon… and polluting our dreams?”

Look into murmurations – scientists “cant imagine why ” – because we are not allowed to anthropomorphise. I divinise. I see JOY as the fundamental source of Life’s effusions.

Theanthric – my coinage. Humandivine.

 

uman divine.

Paradox. I AM/am not god: No thing – a think. Cogito ergo sum.

I AM /Am not God. Paradox, your time is Now.

Two sets of three plain brown leaf shapes twirl in different circles at the ends of a twig dangling from a trail of Spanish moss. Calder! I feel the inspiration that inspired Calder to make his mobiles. My mind delights in this.
I experience my human arm around  tree’s torso, its solid strength like a human being, I lay my head against it. We are one made of two. I am tree. I, tree, river see.
“I Am”, says the god concept which is a creation of the human mind, using human language. What is, can be called god. Why bother?  “There is no place God is not.” “God’s center is everywhere, circumference nowhere.” So what!
God is language – logos – “and the word ( Logos) was with God and the word was God.”
Humans are the ones who use language to describe their world. This is the divine activity of humans!
The world exists. What is, is.
We can stop arguing, the position needs no defense. The words are/ are not reality. Words create reality, by separating things. Every thing is first a “think” in a human mind. There is no separation but by naming, then identifying with the story. An essential and essentially misperceived activity.

I am the human mind of god:  From quantum wiggle to cosmic dance, and in the middle, our human circumstance. I exult in this!! I long for Peace.

Peace comes with acceptance of conflicting views. Both can co-exist. Common ground can be found.

I feel the joy of the jumping fish. The fish jumps to escape predators.
I see the face of the moon change communicatively as I observe it. The moon has craters – my eyes  deceive.
I see the traces of alien space ships in the strange burned holes in the pavement, which cluster at a certain part of the road. Natural explicable causes create these marks.
I feel the spirit space behind my eyeballs, behind your eyeballs, and surrounding this world manifested before my eyes. I know I am blood and bone, and beyond my vision the material, measurable world continues.

Spirit thinks in unified awareness. “God” describes the life force in matter which recognizes itself as me, without a care in the world. I, Lib have lots of cares in the world, but when they get overwhelming I can relax and know I am a temporary manifestation of the human condition. What is happening is happening and has happened and will happen to all of us. Extinction, change, rebirth as something new.

I, Lib, am one with the whole, as my finger is one with my body. Humanity as one conscious species has the potential to move as a flock of birds, or a school of fish – each individual entity part of a greater whole. Our egoic identification with our skin encased matter prevents us from feeling the bloody joy of being alive; we feel alive in those moments of freedom from ego concerns. In moments when we feel the pure emotions of love and joy, or are lost in creativity.  Anger, fear, and hatred come from ego’s selfishness, depression comes from I-Am-God’s frustrated longings. To bomb others is to bomb a part of ourself.

I hold to the story that the god mind knows itself to be everything, experiencing itself as everything, in potential, in realisation, in cessation. Matter is information. Information is smeared on the wall of the black hole, the cosmic egg of all potential,  ever breaking forth in big and little bangs, whirling, emerging in new formations, and ceasing – like breath. Awareness is all. This hugely divine awareness comes to earth in my/our experience of it. It cannot be removed from me. It is who I AM.

Prickles and Goo. I, spirit,  am a necessary corrective for linear prickles mind;  Linear focus is what I, gooey duck, need to thrive in a world which is material, anchored in the linear grid of spacetime.

“Ducks just let you be”. Quack quack quack. Quakers have a lot to offer in the experience of learning to listen. dove

Rocco!

“ If you pee yellow you are not drinking enough water.” My friend who spoke this aphorism, did not notice blood in his pee because it was diluted.
I drink at the public fountain, first sprinkling water to the four directions; Flint Michigan and lead-laced pipes of ancient Rome on my mind. I ask that the water which passes through me may be somehow connected through the consciousness of Water, in me, and in the earth. I see Him as taking poison out of the water and into Himself. “… drink, this is my blood” .

The rules of For Profit Healthcare, deprive him of needed care for one year. This amazing year of 2017. I recall the story of a Greek man, similarly stricken, who decided, after many medical trials and wasted time, to return to his Grecian Island and live the life he always longed for, getting up at an enjoyable pace, being outside in the fields, imbibing with friends in the evening, sleeping well and doing the same tomorrow. His tomorrows continued way past the medical cut-off date he had been given.

I recall the story of the Aborigine healer who said to a desperate and desperately ill person, “ You don’t drink, you don’t eat steak which you pine for, you don’t smoke, you eat food you dislike, you do nothing but focus on being sick – your body has no desire to live! Go and live.” The teller of the story lives to tell the tale, enjoying his pleasures.

Participating in work that kills the soul is possibly killing the body as well. Living each day “zif ’t were thy last” may be the way to live Forever in the moment Now.

Standing in the crook of a huge live oak, I unite its great trunks and feel united through it with earth, roots, and sky. I am Tree. “Rocco!” , my mind identifies the squirrel who looks at me as though to say, “You know me?” Walking on with spontaneous intention,  in a straight line crossing path and grass until I see another “Rocco!”, a fish ( instead)  jumps as though to say, “ You know me?”.  Intention satisfied.  As all squirrels are one to me,  I can see all  humans are “Rocco!” (or Adam/Eve,  Everyman)  to “Buddha mind” which does not make the ego distinctions commonly associated with our names. We are one species in our life experiences, variations on a theme. Loveable like squirrels to one not concerned with our fate. It will be what it is.

We represent the ecological niche of the large mammals. I suspect it is in its last years. “We all die. Not all men live.” Great extinctions are eventually followed by a flowering of the new – which can hardly be imagined. Our lives contribute to the trajectory. Carry on, mes amis.

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Romance

My feet floated above the pavement. I walked on air. I was in love. I was desperately happy. For 3 days, I existed in happy anticipation of THE CALL, the phone would ring, it would be HIM and he would ask me out on my first date. As a bespectacled and somewhat overweight teenager, I had not had the experience of boyfriends talked about so eagerly by mates at my all girl school – this blind date I had taken to our school dance had been a miracle of communication, interest and happiness. I was in bliss – all stories of princesses and princes had come to their climax in me. Now happily ever after could begin.

Wednesday, no call.  Thursday, no call. Anxiety sets in. Friday no call, desperate despair approaches. Saturday no call. The axe falls. Sunday Monday Tuesday Wednesday – the bleak days stretched out before me, my feet plodded heavily and miserably to school.

Although we went out for more than a year, the bliss never returned. Criticism of his purple jersey hurt my ego, innocent fumblings in the car repelled me. After I rejected him, I was amazed he chose a lass with bigger legs than mine; he married and became a small town doctor, a wonderful man of intelligence and independent thought.

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My steps were light, the grass seemed greener, the sky bluer. The constant state of anxiety about the financial future which had bedevilled me for the last 20 years of my adult life had evaporated with my new status – Married. At last. A longed for feeling of emotional security came with the ring on my finger, I felt carefree.

Years passed. We began to live in separate spaces, sleep in separate beds. The ring represented a cultural security and pacified the vile feeling of failure I had internalised in my youth. The endless need for emotional security went unfulfilled, it was a boundless pit. I became resigned to living “low on the hog” . Life was too often a dreary effort to make money, although there was much of beauty in the landscape, friends and the Consolations of Philosophy.

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Why did I allow beauty to be defined by magazines? Plump, bespectacled, white – I longed to be the athletic, tanned Evinrude girl; her long hair waving in the wind as she held on to the tow bar and skied the waves.

Why did I accept the passive romantic role assigned to women? Having waited to be chosen, my own choice would reveal itself in dissatisfaction with the men who chose me.  Cruelly I dismissed them. My instinctive choice was for that which I could not have.

Why did I accept a material definition of success, and reject it in a too long prolonged teenage rebellion against said definition?  This was a recipe for going nowhere.

Marriage is sacred. Marriage is for keeps. I married a good man with his own flaws, together we are finding the way forward. After 20 years of marriage, I recognise  my dissatisfaction with our status quo was a projection of my own lack, a transference blaming my incompleteness on him, rather than where it belongs – in myself. We are rocks for each other to cling to in the storms, now that our dreamboats have foundered on those very same rocks. ri-and-me-web

Living Our Potential for Universal Love.

Living Our Potential for Universal Love

The stories we tell ourself create our reality. This is mine.

I believe in the potential for universal love. I grieve for the lost paradise which I see in potential, and in reality being destroyed.

The evolution of consciousness from all potential into the thousand things, which slowly learn to cooperate and see themselves as in fact one, continues. The stars see themselves in us through our eyes. All the animals and plants know this wordlessly. Humankind is the species in which consciousness becomes self conscious.

The ability to do wrong exists –  unselfconscious animals don’t “do wrong” – choice came in with humans. This is the human trajectory. We have experimented with freedom, our new experiment will be universal cooperation.

We cannot change the overall trajectory, only where we stand in the flow. Some are part of the next wave of evolution – the evolution of a cooperative intelligence; some do not contribute.

We remain  part of the problem while we see no way to be  a greater part of the solution. Our efforts are symbolic. They seem powerless. Our efforts are not useless if one believes in spirit (imagination, story), or the unity of us with  Earth. This is the story of humankind and we play our part. Ridiculous species; noble species; here we are.

I am attempting to regain and retain conscious awareness of “universal love”/“divine consciousness”,  before the individuation story set in, although it is essential to retain the knowledge of individuation or one becomes as the mental patient.

Animals, simpler human societies, and babies see  with “universal love”  i.e. limited, or no awareness of the capacity for individual action contrary to the whole environment.  Human babies discover their toes and realize the interface of the interior world with the outer world. The terrible twos are furious at their newly discovered power being denied them. Slowly they learn the consensual story and learn the interface is between I and thou – myself and the rest of the world; we moderns lose the nonverbal awareness of unity with everything.
We are all born as Buddha, as Jesus, as the enlightened one. Every baby born into whatever family  is  born with this knowledge because it is part of the anima mundi, the worldsoul.

In Paris,I saw the dinosaur bones, arranged in great ranks on table after table progressing on through mammals to us. Humans may wipe ourselves out but consciousness is us, it is polar bears, it is everything that ever exists… the new is evolving out of the chaos: choice, and freedom to invent without the desire to destroy, possess and control. This has already existed in the Australian Aborigine and no doubt other societies too; it exists in so many of us – now to universalize it.

Time is like the Eiffel tower, the dinosaurs were around for several floors, the humans are like the layer of paint on the top of the tower. Some part of their DNA is in us, some part of the evolution of consciousness. The whole exists.

Time has speeded up for us. When our culture with its short sighted ways has ended, the flow of time will return to beauty and naturalness. Eternity (outside of time) coexists with us and we access it when we are creative and loving, dancing, enjoying and striving; then we are part of beauty, eternal.

Mad mad world and here we are.

Blue Cardinal Red jay - Peace

On the death of George

 

I am in your head

On the Death of George

of course his name is that of the mother
it is so fine to be able to talk to Geo
and know that i am talking to the mother so to speak

imagining a particular being
able to be aware of my thoughts
not troubled by them
no longer the ego in the bag of skin
tuning in when it is about
Him and not worried that it is sometimes Her.

i didnt know Geo very well but i knew him for a long time
i know geo ( gaia ) all my life and only  through the focus of my life
who  i am, i can imagine saying to George, is a composite of the voices that reply to me both inside my thoughts and inside my atmosphere.

I tell Geo, now you are in both places, from your perspective as my idea of you.

and i visualise that crooked smile, mobile lines,
those twinkle packed eyes.

auauauauauaee

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Parsing aka unpacking the Poem.

of course his name is that of the mother
it is so fine to be able to talk to Geo
and know that i am talking to the mother so to speak

Geo geode geography – that particular rock we call earth, the mother. “George”, the man’s name, is also calling Earth mother – in my way of thinking. In my way of thinking Babble ( words words words) returns to Babel, Babel:  Bab = the gate, el = Life force (formerly mythically apprehended as “god” ). In Babel all words with related phonemes have a meaningful connection. Babel is the peaceful joyful paradise in my head ( where hell and torment is also found.) Humans try to comprehend the secrets of the universe and in their arrogance destroy peaceful co-existence. ( Biblical myth of Tower of  Babel falling and making many languages instead of one.)

imagining a particular being
able to be aware of my thoughts
not troubled by them
no longer the ego in the bag of skin

For me , my dead continue to exist in my head,

tuning in when it is about
Him and not worried that it is sometimes Her.

Having been embodied they have no curiosity, disgust or amazement other than mine.
My Jesus theory is that every baby born is That emanation of Life Force, and returns to Life Force, every human on the other side of death is one with what is. The suffering and the joy remain in the emotional realm which can only be experienced in material form, matter, Mater, mother, Earth and her beings. Bliss is a non active state. Angels and harps anyone? Clouds of glory in beautiful sunsets are the heavenly hosts in my book.

i didn’t know geo very well but i knew him for a long time.
i know geo ( gaia ) all my life . Only  through the focus of my life.
“Who  i am”, i can imagine saying to George, “is a composite of the voices that reply to me, both inside my thoughts and inside my atmosphere.”

I commune with my dead and with trees, leaves, patterns in the pavement, the river, people – my thoughts are inside my head; “my atmosphere” the world outside my head, is also inside my head – in my perceptions of and interaction with it.

I tell Geo, now you are in both places, from your perspective as my idea of you.

All my dead are in my head as my idea of them, I communicate with them. The world around me becomes their reply, I see smiles in the cracks of the pavement, acknowledgement in the movement of leaves in the tree. Perhaps I am thinking of how spirits are like birds – a bird flies close by me. Perhaps i am thinking of legendary witches – I see a witch made of leaves caught in the tree caterpillars’ web nest, persisting winter after winter.

and i visualise that crooked smile, mobile lines,
those twinkle packed eyes.

auauauauauaee

The physical absence of those who have dematerialised is incontrovertible. My heart grieves.

writings; philosophical meanderings