Tag Archives: words

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 !

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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

 

 

 

 

 

 

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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

Dualism trance-ended.

i am top quark and bottom quark
microcosm and macrocosm
i am a whole made of tiny particles
i am the tiny particle that knows
it is part of a collective whole

i tell myself this stuff and yet i dont listen to myself
i am mystic and rational
my rational mind denies my mystic experience

Humans are feminsasculin. Our minds are all alike in our receptive thoughts, experiences  and feelings; our minds are all unique in our individually lived lives.
My female mind is one across humanity. It is the female experiencing receiving mind ( in two hemispheres of our brains).
Our male mind knows ego. It is unique and active in telling its story and taking actions. Each one of us develops this mind usually pretty firmly by the age of two.

In dio, in god, i.e. knowing all is one and loving it all, because it is oneself.
Indigenous mind; mind of eden planet; loving family, valuing children, respecting each person for their own particular life.

Black and white – polarities of indio/ human mind;
Insofar as we identify ourselves as black or white, with positive and negative connotations,  we fail to recognise ourselves as Indio, the people. One with “god” ie nature and Earth our mother.

This old knowing of the indigenous peoples, is mocked as animism; church religion distorted and co-opted the teachings of the wise. Indios, when introduced to the idea of a loving father god at first accepted it because they knew the experience of living within the embrace of a loving parent. They too were abused. They were named indio, indigenous, aboriginal, by those of the culture which did the mocking and disparaging  and denying of ancient knowing. I am a child of that culture. My rational mind is formed by that culture.
I am of an evolving culture which respects, studies and acclaims indio, indigenous, aboriginal, first people. I too am of this earth and a child of the most high – the sun. I have enough humility to say this, and enough piety to feel awe, and am growing enough self respect to see it through.

Now we who wish to claim our unity as tiny quarks cooperating within a greater whole, as humans in the web of life, rise up and speak. Logos! Word!  We rhyme and blog. We are story tellers, artists.
We are working on becoming conscious to the tiniest quantum wiggle (i name it), and of ourselves as one with the stars, and as ME, hue-man wombman, persona universalis, huomo integralis  in the middle.

Evolving here to prepare for the evolution of our niche, our nest,
death where is thy sting, you are the best.
We get to start again, to play our part again, in the evolving story
in which we know we are ever the glory of the evolving mind
striving to find how to integrate at a higher level
including devil.
My how we recognise him !!!
He is myself; my ego. Please allow me to introduce myself.
All my former lives see through my eyes, all my dead are in my head.

All experience is in my head. “The differential elimination of neuronal connections gives rise to sensory experience.”
Now we know the brain is plastic, we can differentially restore neuronal connections and give rise to an experience of unity, ever greater, ever more successfully communicating with itself.

We are it. Imagination is its play, my lila, the story i tell myself in all its consensual and all its non consensual reality. When i allow myself to see more, to see the whole world as conscious and communicating with me, my visuals and my thoughts united, i see, for example, lightning in distant clouds creating images of electrical activity in a brain. Moon and i are one reflecting and adoring sun.

Stu the Jew devotedly and adoringly loves god who loves him back and thus this hugely hellish experience of human fallibility is given meaning – but only to Stu the Jew. The story evolved. Put “i” in the middle of Jesus and you get Je suis. I AM. Logos . The circle is complete, for those of us who, like Stu the Jew are into the magnificence of Logos pre Babel. That is – it is our delight to create meaning and find coincidences and synchronicities in language. To see the unity underlying all the individual stories and experiences, all the words and worlds.
My rational mind knows this is all blah blah blah and my female mind says,
oy veh! OK. You dont have to try it, but you cant deny it. Consensual, conventional rationality is the basis. We all start there.
waka and biznis district- ceremonial canoe

poetic note for Lucie de L.A.

Sol rose rouge, en levant le signal jaune.
Le mot qui s’enscribe ici, toi et moi, “pronk” like pronghorn lambs, pour joie y Lila;

Pink pink pink – rhymes w stink stink stink
my little boy mind chortles,
blue my color, i redefine girl
beyond gender limitation
tho coming in that box.

Le mot qui s’enscribe ici, moi et moi, dans l’vresse d’orgeuil regressa y lo dire a la vida.

Eve sors de ses pentiments divine. Hissed off au viper.

Now, let us prey upon our soul.

Sun rose red This morning seeking Luna,
silvered fingernail
pas de
amarillo papillon
jejeune, I pink my way across the grass. PASS.

Desperate, Laughing,
I cry.
I breathe…
In.
Sigh
so ham

Cloud’s illusions I recall, now:
vertebrae; and skidding halt
of bunnycloud on trail skid
direct across the sky and then another
on collision path
and yet one more comes in to view.
What is that distant point where they converge?
Ever farther out. Earth orbit.

I love thee, sky, and clouds.
Love is not only desirous of identity
but also of multiplicity
starting in duality
which appears two halves of one,
with one witness
one repetItive breath.

My fingers spelled ‘e’ – repetEtive; my mind tried ‘a’ – repetAtive, and had to look it up.
For a moment, I had forgot about “i”.

gaia-2m

Universal Mind on a Breezy Day.

Today I found a snail sort of frozen like on the footpath – maybe it had just missed being stepped on or ridden over. Cold blew the breeze suggesting freeze up North. I picked Snail up and loved watching its two, four, six sets of eyes as it explored its world – it could pull feeler things back inside itself, the 3rd set doesn’t have perceptible eyes, sometimes just one of them sticks out to explore and, feeling my skin, pulls back like a new baby reaching its little leg out into the air and finding nothing familiar, contracting quickly.  i.e.My mind, you understand , not only projected into it , but also watching it :    it might expect it would feel the same as where its whole body was stuck to mine but the new little feeler was visible to me, in a way its body contact with my hand was not, so I guess it was discovering its unique identity and fearing the new, pulled back.

We humans, so lost in our unique identity by the time we are, well 6 yrs old, forget our unity with all. We identify with our own skin and not with the consciousness that is within every creature and every human. In my mind , that universal consciousness sees with my eyes and finds its oneness in me. Universal Consciousness is not bothered with human concerns, it experiences:  I Am  Snail waking up, I am my granddaughter learning to walk uneven ground and get on up after falling. I Am that Universal Consciousness  in a limited skin calling out for re-cognition here. To be known again, as first people know  – that we are one with it. Wankan tanka, Sacred Mystery.  Ra – Sun .

Will we co-operate or die off.?

At my age, I find many of us have given up on political agitation, as I have given up on local strivings, but the new people are undoing the work we did. An old friend was lamenting to me this morning in the park. Grass planting we put in to save the river bank, “they” want to tear out; “they” have already cut down a tree… We need to teach them what we did, so that they may implement their dreams ( floating dock etc) within the parameters of what we built. It is for all our future, the snails, the children, the old …. let the boat ramp be built where the shore is already hardened..I hurt so much when I realised what was going on and the old man telling me said they wont listen…
I say they just dont know, let ME come to the meeting , I’ll tell them!!!.

It makes me sad, and yet the incredible beauty of everyday, of the sky and the speaking clouds let me know I am so so so not alone. This is new age consciousness. It co-exists here, in my heart where I lay down the rage at dispossession and say to myself – do I not still possess eyes to see snail and river and clouds ? do I not still have skin to feel the cool breeze which speaks of the arctic so gently and the mid day sun which parches thirst? Am I not yet ALIVE. I am always here in my heart mind. I am heart mind of my world which includes thee, who read this rant. I thank you. This morning the fish were jumping, like Salmon going upriver, but just mullet jumping for joy or escape… Fish cannot express that same joy I feel at being alive? Both are true – for I Am my truth.

I guess we either think its too late and shrug or we do whatever we can to help raise awareness in the corridors of power. OR we comprehend how we are in this together. That survival belongs to those who value the common good more than questionable amounts of personal excess.

silk painting and studio experiences …
http://www.elizabethmitchellstudio.com

LECseascape