[willow_wisp]

Is the God of Wisdom drunk? cascading through the night fearful of nothing, for no life would harm itself, all knowing, for this harm is of another world is the breadth of another's hand, so different, so different, erupting within me like last nights bran. I have given birth, and it has a life of its own, this is the true schizophrenia and the art of being, in a world of multiplicity and oneness, in a word where thought is stillness born of stillness, motion is stillness, it all writhes in absolutely and incomprehensible pleasure, but in an instant filling the smallest vessel the true self, ecstatic, viewing itself, home to no where, a wild wind like an orbit, friend of disbelief, come restore me, for as the ancient way says, the names are changed slowly, as we find those gatekeepers and where insight ferments to devotion, and there opening their minds that the bubbles rise once more to light and fizz the new name of God. I drink of that mead, which is non alcoholic, which is many things and I roam nonchalantly with my galant band, across the land, with much mirth, for our virtue and merriment is the hallmark of a new age, an eternal age, the age of health, of wonder made mundane and losing nothing, for through gratefulness, serendipity and the churning of the moon, sun and celestial bodies it is wrought forth, yolked indeed from the locality of this plane, to the universality of all existence, which bears forever the space and denseness, the wild hearted and ambitious, spiritual lovers, impaled upon that which is inanimate and giving to it sweet life and spirit by their very vibration, mind and dare I say, divine madness? In many worlds and in many forms it has come across, and today within all of us they live, and possess us, where even our own names become as the songs of the quiet wind, that cover most of our world, and our bodies become the planets. As forever passing and paradigms and contexts forever shifting, the Priestess of Wanti appears in humble means, pulling the toxins from the earth by blessed means to their rightful homes, sending that cosmic love, the intimations and rebelliousness of true heartfelt living that this planet has so longed for, why have you become so brute to our senses, for surely they sprout from your own, and our cries carry the feeling deep to your core, where has this tragedy began? Far before our kind, for we are the messiahs, who have come to bring light to the world, and in our growing each of us has fallen to the spectre of that true darkness which is necessary to know ourselves, but now I have passed on into true oblivion, conceptless or not, attached to all and nothing, puffing the blunt of empty mayhem and riffing with by unknown inspiration and means, is it the fairies, is it the world? is it the coincidence of esoteric art? neither and all.
I love you, open skies of this room, this temple of truth, these smells and scents which waft endlessly and invoke such utter warmth in me, something that truly cannot be told. The senses themselves are the faces of my love, of the eternal love, of Krishna, to whom we are all wedded spontaneously and who takes all forms and names, blessed be the far reaching manifestations of that saintly devotion which by means of the sciences has culminated to this drama of drama's our lives, archetypal and infinitely vital are the energies at play, and glimpsing the self for only a moment upon the stone Lia Fail, as I have appeared frozen in time perhaps, and at the insurmountableness of the work ahead of me, resorted to the lore of the ancients, and how close it appears. Upon this stone, how perfect is the world? How all encompassing is the heart, friends have gathered and time has spent and the party has waned on and the moments have coalesced into such a divine frenzy of god intoxicated bliss, the true lady of the sky has come forth in true form, and revealed it all as the inner workings of the one soul, where all this springs up like so many happy flowers touched and prepared by all in life and the crickets, hope about and the unseen benefactors, the fairies, the ones who disappear in the sunlightand in obviousness, the benevolent artist, I cry out to you, whatever term-
Ah he has jumped upon me, the cricket king, singing silently, of everything, but lo, it takes place here and in many forms, in no forms the devas coalesce and they return, to put it plainly, where she who has been sealed deep in Vogodie and the world begins leaking in, so honest is she and innocent, it appears to be the beginnings of a great vision, and like that it continues.
The ruins of this temple and as it melts into the room, I had prayed there that the Tuatha return and bless and keep this world alive, true as they are and end the confusion, but it is the drama they say which is the fertility of it all, the true growing, it would never be stopped, and as I comprehend their divine love and compassion and try to live a life full of that feeling as best I can, humble I find my limbs too short, my concepts too limited and my searching too endless, but here among the exact same world, it is all different, for without happening it has happened, and such is tao, not a command, not a pose or a ritual, but a culmination resulting from the direction and honing of the spirit over time, towards recovering an equilibrium that all of us must face as the truth, which all of us define for ourselves, are we alone or among one or many?
Just as Goddess possesses us, all of us possess her, just as the mountain is unyielding, so is the basic outer reach of my own thoughts, which are merely clouds and I realize I have always been silent, among this river which is my love, reaching out and embracing me as best he could, bless him, innocent in his foraging of my heart, he is not perfect but surpassing that in the newness and the expirement of it all, like a virgin, virgins us both, virgins to what? something grand, and where wanti appears and the spirits draw us in, and the faeries sing beautifully, no we are not merely the actors, we are the tricksters and we are the honest tricks of eternity, there never has been suffering, for we are the healers of blues, and of mistakes and all everything and of ignorance and chaos, bless it where it appears, for we cannot do anything, where there is sickness, there is also novelty and drama from which can be harvested and cultivated upon the fruits of wisdom, and greater joy in the end, as the wounded healer knows well.
So we walked on, I sang Hare Krishna I saw in a dream all that lay before me, urged on by so many in their single pointedness, it reached my heart and my heart filled and no longer was there room the universal quality of each movement, indescribable, the purpose of it, so grand, I have trust in the fundamental nature of self, thats why the hippies have begun to gather once more, the old ones, the new ones, the same ones, wiser than before.

Thanks Jok! its a wild ride! screw the windows is waht I thought as I sat on the park bench sipping a cold brew of iced tea and calmly referring to myself as the bus driver, and upon this bus was my friend Grandelo, a very interesting wizard from Africa, who had actually come to tell me a few things about the state of the universe at large, while in the incarnated state, everything is going swimmingly, theres a lot of fine lines that were broken or warped after the water rushed over them, should I look into the leaves of the trees and take the seeds of the bushes and plant them, no, they will do that themselves, I'll just be myself, as someone who loves a lot, and who accepts very little, when the world didn't become paradise after I had attained many revelations and healing experiences which were universal in nature, I just figured it was because the world was perfect as it was and I stopped really trying or caring.... is that my full potential? More and more my limitations become apparent to me, or maybe its just deeper levels of karma. I am a disabled person, usually not recieved well for my ideas of what is spiritual, everything, and how far i take it, but thats just me, and whatever it is or means, I dont know, one person can't do it all alone, and right every wrong, because we all have strengths and weaknesses, which is the beauty of existing among others, at times its downright frightening, the way people and the world is, in here, but especially out there, and its not something I could understand from this vantage point, but that is my battle on a personal level, now why have I written it and gone about telling everyone, and missing so much in the scope of my topic? well, because I have not thunk it out fully, and its the hugeness of it all which makes that seem impossible, but more and more as the dreams fill me, and as I grow in shamanic skill, I'm able to do it, and operate in a realm not based in competition but in benevolence, like a hobo I once spoke to said, I'm not looking for competition I'm looking for a cure, an anecdotal cure perhaps, or something greater.

The face of the Other is unpredictable, and conversely its the most beautiful and trustworthy face of them all. Bless the hobos and the brilliance that must be sacrificed every day into that void of time, into that place where lost things go, hopefully to appear again, for I've lost many songs, and etc. but sometimes maybe its better it isnt recorded, because if nothing was ever recorded, then it would just flow on, but it seems to always do that, and our worlds have not moved much in the past eight billion years and I like it how it is, personally, of course the truth is not contained all here, but my translation of it is, perhaps it doesn't cut it for you, which is why people who are not me exist.

[Princess_Obsidian]

Greetings,

Interesting point of view.

Have a good one.

[willow_wisp]

Hey princess obsidian I'm sure you recognize me hehe...
so once again i'm at a crossroads can't stand being cooped up here, gotta get out, gotta learn to drive, gotta find a place, thats cool thats beyond these lil wordies

prolly gonna head out to thailand, peace girl

[willow_wisp]

heres a video by ram dass

[RunningEagleRuns]

Just poke him...

[sleepless0x]

one word: trippy.