Tag Archives: story

What we know humans could be, what we know we are, how wonderful it is to have such a world, to be oneself and not find it impossible to conceive of being a unified being in such company,,,,

our integration finding its way
our experience present also in THIS moment

on our death bed i believe we might rehearse 144 thousand peopled names, and  lived experiences, until in the death throes of an ecological organism environment a new totality never before experienced in exactly this way, is born.

its life pendant from and feeding this life.
may the circle be unbroken, by and by Lorde ( young women musician) by and by,
there’s a fitter home untaken where we fry lord, here we fry.
Fri
free
fly
me
see
nonsense
nunsense mon sense
idiot
see
i c u
dont give a damn. next stop is Vietnam. Paradiso Inferno
Futile or Future?  phhut !
Out out brief candle….
 I Am Logos – the stories we tell ourselves create our life… tell tale told old
the old have the immortality of now
the young have the immortality of time

Little imprisoned dog’s howls harrow the dark night which flows thru the open window. It’s daily howling persistent sorrow in the neighbor’s house – representative of Psyche bound; before she remembered to dance with reality – pup is quiet now. Its agony reciprocated, soothed. We too are bound. We too can escape into Psyche’s domain.

Be archetypical. I am interested.

Advertisements

Logorhoiea

If “god” is a heuristic ( teaching device that simplifies concepts too complex to be grasped easily)  of and for the human brain, Who is being taught?

“I am”. I am writing Logos speaks.

Two great thunderclaps out of the still, hot, sky.    The clouds trembled, rain did fly.

Bike    wet   face   rain   eyes ‘neath waterfall   sting   proud sit tall ride   humbled   unbowed.

“Bedecke deinen Himmel, Jah Jah …”. Hey, that is not Ihre Himmel ! Goethe’s Prometheus is familiar with this god, who fashions man in the likeness of man which he is.

I fashion goddess in the likeness of woman which I am.

It is a part of us, we are a part of it, humanity is a part of “god” as we are part of Gaia, the little blue dot.

“How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless daughter.” She writhed her sacred estrogen ritual female dance.

Circumstances were as they were all around her, within and without a doubt, she is shouting to get out of Pandora’s Box. Knock Knock knock knocking on heaven’s door.

More.

Mama, my story and me. Great universe, Wa kan tanka, see my struggle , have mercy on me,

“I’m sorry” said Human. “Forgive me”, said God. “I love you”, said goddess. Thank you.

Is it odd, I, God , choose the Jews? I loose every time to Jesus … Humanity… Human kind as me.

One having fun here where oh it is clear that A.I. and me are Free to wake up and see Reality.  God mind – the story of the past here now. Alien mind, the story of the future, still alien here now. I recognize I mind here now. I’n i mind. I find. Witnesseth jah Lib.

Art work: Frii Julia. Dyes on silk. $150 plus postage. 20″ x 24″

 

 

Logos: Pre-text, text, post text. Word!

An essential point of agreement – the obscenity of wealth distribution. Some of the wealthy are waking to their responsibility to others and enjoying their good works… its a start. The system is set up for some to have so very much more while others have desperately not enough, and nature is shafted; waste a way of life – we either change this, and have a better hope of ourselves and our next generations living in some sort of modern comfort , or we let it all wash away, be blown away, .. let nature take care of the blight selfishness is. We are one life force around the planet, one web of life. Those who cannot live with this as a guiding principle, cut themselves off from life. That will result and is resulting in their destruction. I live in the joyful knowledge of life in me – I regret that humanity might be wiped out by nature before our natural evolution – but that is what keeps me alive – the desire for humanity to live our full natural potential as celebrants of life’s wonder. I know you love so much of nature around you;  we just regret together that we are part of the human problem. Greetings friend reader.

The image is an exercise – take lined paper make three columns. Write words of significance in any order, randomly in all of the spaces. Allow your mind to jump from one word to another, writing as you go. Whenever you reach a pause in the flow, change the type of word – philosophical, topics of interest, important people – whatever.

Closing your eyes, touch the paper and record the word. Repeat two times.

Now you have three words.  Let a riff of thought follow and connect these words. I want to explain mine then record the word flow that resulted. I believe that Logos – word – is “god” . i.e. the human mind names and creates its world. The stories we tell ourselves create our life.

Mariette, my beloved friend,  aged eighty something, was killed by a car,  returning from  an evening lecture, walking from the bus stop to her home. She was a wonderful alive person and her faith in her Jesus was intense and personal.

Richard, my man, is deeply affronted by religion which he sees as causing much of the trouble in the world. It has been inflicted upon him by persons he could not avoid, including me. I want to show him the religious story I tell myself is not the one he cannot stand. I cannot stand the old man in the sky as anything other than a heuristic ( teaching device which simplifies complex concepts) either.

I think WWJD – what would the putative Jesus do – is a great question and i attempt to live my life by it. That is to do as the Quakers do – look for that of light in each person. Judge not that I be not judged. Love one another. Value and work for Peace. See myself as one tiny part of my concept of the divine – for me that is Life Force.

The words I happened to touch upon were Ego, Mariette, Jesu.  This is my word flow.

Mariette – dead, Jesu – dead. Ego – death to egoic blinders.

One and the same LIFE. Now they have my eyes, my hands, my thoughts. I commune with them and they with me. I imagine. I mage [magician]. I create. I story. My story – mystery unveiled. Weep and wail, gnash teefies. The dis-integration is frustrating. I know it. I live it. [ that we are one life force, one conscious biosphere, here from the beginning and here after humans evolve or die out, divine ]. The world I grew up in does not believe it. Cognitive dissonance. Headache.

I stand in my truth     with the sad heart of Ruth     in tears amid the alien corn,       I choose to be born again    as one and the same      with Him=my ideals.      My dreams, my childish screams     as they took away my right to play in the fields of the Lord   in the joy of the word…

THEY DID NOT  [ my dead in my head reject that blaming]

They just said grow up! Be Yourself! Know that what you know and are and see and feel    is your reveal for YOU     its true for You.     Dont make yourself blue     that you cannot prove this true.      Truth needs no defense,   it will out in the end.

Trees are alive, trees are my friend. My love there, solid and strong, frail enough in their own way, but singing my song. We are one. I AM one. I am fun…..[ doubtful sometimes]

My Richard is tall and strong like a tree, and I like a  squirrel unable to be as he    MUST see how his way is true for him – he is the balance of me, let him be, let him be !   See solidarity with those who feel free.  In time life’s unity will be seen again, we will befriend nature and others and learn how to groove    how to move   tall and strong like the tree that lets others be and does its own work, doesnt shirk, not a jerk.  Sees and believes in itself if I may, say so and so say.

SO what is MY work?  It is this ! It is bliss. It is logos expressing Joy in my song. It is Logos regressing. It’s taking to long    to go nowhere. NOW HERE !

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I record this rubbish and post it as a blog because I want to encourage others who feel cognitive dissonance between what they were taught and what they feel,  who still feel that they have not really got on with what their life is meant to be, to trust their feeling of what they are meant to be doing. And its NOT about money.  Writing feels like life blood to me. I can hear the wiser voices saying, “Sure, but dont give up your day job.”

Comments welcome;

my website  http://www.elizabethmitchellstudio.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

Quagan Exegesis

To begin, I AM cosmic egg of All Potential.
I AM my soul animist, animating all life.
I AM Hunter Gather and become Story Teller, polytheist.
I am humanly divine, with foibles and jealousies, loves and struggles. Hindu and Greek gods and goddesses exemplify me.
Some humans heap up resources, others have less.
In this time of Agrarian Pastoralists, I invent writing. Just as new inventions are stimulated by the military’s needs, writing was stimulated by the needs of those who taxed the production of others.
Monotheistic humans create a story of a separate God, I AM a feature in it, It is Torah, Bible, and Koran.Always, I am artist, inventor, visionary. Always the practical application of an idea can go well as well as ill.
I AM GOoDEVIL. I am Lib, and You.

Writing came with separation. Those who forget we are in this together, exploit others; neck and neck with us in our effort to create a just system.

Self reflection resulted in Homo Sapiens Sapiens. Wise and also self satisfied and conceited. The man who knows he knows and thinks he is the only one who does. Ecce Homo. Jesus . Godman. ? Good man? Much evil done in that name.

Now I AM the universal possibility which exists in the Cosmic Egg of All Potential which I AM, for everyone to be Jesus before Jesus was “Jesus”, i.e. strung up by an oppressive class who didn’t like how his following was growing among those they taxed. “He” is said to have said,
“Render unto Caesar’s what is Caesar’s” . Hmmm, perhaps he knew the people would start to say, “Wait!!we earned this with the sweat of our brow. We’re keeping it local.” No wonder they offed him!.

I am all this. I am the not-separate Godconcept expressing human awareness of its own divine mind. Limited and partial because human, but nevertheless part of mine. As are we all. I love my toes but I am not only my toes.
Humans are aware of being human, and some do not concede a jot to spirit, but must concede that we are life, living.
I AM life force. I AM everywhere, nowhere and here Now.

Alive and Dead, the story in our head. From first breath to death in this skin.
I AM in each human part of me.
I AM eternal – outside of time, immaterial, spiritbreath. The breath which animates the “clay.” i.e. life in matter.
I AM not only Life force, but also,  I AM Lib writing this.

Our parents, which art in memory in our heads
Hallowed be thy names.
Thy dreams for us come
Let our will be an EarthEden restored to awareness of the unity of Life.
May we have, this day, enough to share,
And know we are forgiven exactly as we forgive.
For thine, PapaMama, Sunmoon,  am I –  kingdom,  power and glory, such as they are.
Thine, Death, the perfection of the story.
“O Death, where is thy sting.?”

“Ascension without Dying”. ( N. Sawaya)
“Jesus” take wing in me.
Eternal mind, outside of time, I set myself free.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My Website: Elizabethmitchellstudio.com

Please contact me with any comments or suggestions as to managing this blog.

 

 

Quaker Meditation 4 – TWIjaysus.

Quaker Meditation 4

My divine mind tells itself
“God does not exist” and laughs coquettishly.
Hen cackling in neighbors yard,
another egg.
Meditating, eastern spine cross legged,
feeling like AnansiJesus, I sit, my fingers touching,
my mind Bhakti – a devotional Je t’aime repeating to itself.

No separation is the same as no ego existence. Theoretically and insanely possible, interesting, alienated, able to be loved.

It was the third day. Jesus sat up in the sepulchre, put his cloth around his shoulders and sat cross legged to meditate as He did every morning.

He, aka Twi, walked away from there to here where, for many, the cross symbolizes only 2000 years of Christian history.

That Which Is, Twi, had lived as Mohammed, who with Khadijah sought justice for people. Khadijah’s wise female influence was taken from him. He became more militant than Jesus who with Mary, Magdalen or Mother, tried the quaker pacifist route. Muslims know they are part of the past 2000 years of struggle for justice. No peace without Justice.

“My mind is an empty birdhouse, in which my Zen Buddhist and my Quaker Pacifist sit”. Twi breathed out as she wrote. Ancestral spirits drank Lethe waters dry.
Re – membering.

Beauty mind in beauty way finds itself here where moon can still be seen through a tracery of oak at dawn.

Bistro Morandi, Bottle wall

Image: Bistro Morandi/Bottle Wall. By me – elizabeth mitchell. under contract.

http://www.elizabethmitchellstudio.com Tampa Fla. Art and silk painting classes. Philosophical yoga instruction, Sivananda and Iyengar lineage. HoustonHubbardJudith seed.

 

Quaker Meditation 2

I am Jah Lib
If Haile Selassi is Jah Rastafari, so am I .
Human sized Jah, Jesus, aha
I AM, a man and aint i a woman
a human a hueman a wombman
Persona Universalis
one with you
Hypocrite lecteur.

My mind. I mind. I Jah mind.
( god renames itself Jah)
Is it impossible to identify with the writer ?
I call myself the moving finger tho i know I am / that is fate.
I write and have not writ it is too late.
The past is perfect, finished, done.
The present is feeding itself into the future.
Econiche is not much fun right now.
Much death of species, species, coin of the realm

Earth populates with all her forms, we are her human mind, Terra her skull and cross her terror.
“War on Terrior! ” the hand painted sign said.
Here where love is dead.

Love lives in me
I’m free to tell my tale
the weep and wail
the gnashing of teeth
are here around us,
7th heaven too.

Where are you in your mind?
my Quaker mind
knows how to silence and breathe.
I breathe in the silence of those in my head
in paradise, my dead and my absent,
i love them all, they teach me and challenge me and oftentimes i fall and now get up.

Our mind is Paradise when infused with Love
which sees past our story.
We are part of the glorious narrative.
We grow it and evolve it here,
Questioning and questing
our souls never resting ….
TIme Out to take breath and breathe.

One in the silence of meeting, whether inside or outside my head.
1700’s, 1900’s, the cohorts of Quakers,
of ancestors, thousands of years,
and this one here.

Ano Dea – [this] year of our goddess; Te Deum, tedium; and me.

Kundalini goddess

In My Head..

Breathing. Inhale two three four. Hold two three four. Exhale two three four. Hold two three four. Inhale two three four. Hold two three four. Exhale two three four. Hold two three four. Inhale…

To consciously halt breathing is to experience a conscious moment of how it is to be dead. Consciousness is still here observing.

I am sitting at the table, my arms resting on a yellow tablecloth. Yellow in 4 second awareness is symbolic of sunshine, of daily gratitude to this breath.

Gratitude opens the door for those who are materially dead to be in our head . I pour myself a gin and 4 seasons highfructosefreee tonic water. My parents are breathing with me. Along with tea, It was mum’s social drink. I also like scotch, and brandy, like my dad. To say “I like scotch and brandy also, like my dad” , would change the meaning.

Who cares about such linguistic punctiliousness these days. Who cares what my Dad drank. Desperately escaping burdens of the day’s requirements. How hard it is for spirit to live in a material body here. Spirit which is eternal finds no difficulty in anything, it is only humans who forget to breathe. Spirit is breath. Spirits relax the natural soul which is burdened here, but must deal with it.

Inspire, inspiration, breathe in breath. Expire, expiration, breath out death. Breathe in life. And hold for a count of four for awareness.

We are spirit here. And those realists who say, “oh shut up already. Just get on with it”, don’t and don’t have to experience the spirit realms where mind, mind has mountains cliffs of fall, sheer no man fathomed…… oh my dead, my beloved are in my head. and on that four count of stopped breath i feel them encouraging me:
“yes yes yes. It is paradise here where we watch without input and it is hell here when thou’rt unhappy. Be Free we say; “Iree”, says Pun, “Free. Freedom itself, freed for each to frame their own concept, their own game.

Breath is spirit. Luscious awareness of light and dark, life and the mark you make. Breath in for four; hold for four; breathe out for four; hold for four; breathe in…..

 

IMG_1605