The Crux of the Matter | Trimming our sails toward the unknown

She sits to ponder in the silent morning.

Clouds obscure the sun, diffuse the light in a gentle and hushed hue of gray.

So much yet so little has been running through the consciousness, like a stream of water passing through. There are moments that stand out and hold, others slip by even as my self-knowing-self realizes that they are captured in the perfecting harmonies.

This is the eternal now, a place to visit and real-i-ze the truth of Nature, of Mother, of me. I feel it like a bobbing bubble in a rapid changing sea of consciousness, only needing to focus the attention for my awareness to shift to this sweet spot, this place of peace that knows itself within The Self.

She smiles at me, gives me a nod to continue.

Then there is this; this corner, this crux, this moment that blares a discordant horn. It requires my attention, my now me to pierce a false reality, a humanity bent on destruction. Standing in this corner of reality, finite, dark and insane requires that I act, that I speak, that I continue to chip away at the dam built of lost dreams and lost souls. It requires that I put my shoulder to the grinding wheel of time and give all I have to pulverize the construct that is a wild beast out of control.

I see the metaphors, the hard stone, the foundation of the highest mountain that doesn’t give way, yet this water that I am will find a way and even the most strongly held fortress will eventually return to its original form, like stone to sand to dust, blown by the swirling jet streams into the furthest reaches of space, star dust is all we are.

Oh what joy! That I can ponder this vast reality, cut free from the chains that bind our humanity.

The siren’s song, She is smiling at the inversion of this term.

Danger is what men feel, that they will crash their crafted phrases on some rocky shore, yet … so alluring and enchanting is this song. Men have built stronger ships, more sophisticated craft, larger towns and halls, laws and rules, codes and copy-rights in an all out effort to constrain the infinite song of songs.

She laughs and sings at such foolish things, she bids the writer and reader to silence now, to stop this collective madness.

We, humans, both men and women have lost something so precious so essential for life to truly flourish here. We have lost our own child of wonder, we have contrived to make sure this child is controlled, coded and contained. Is this impossible for you out there reading these words to see how this is done, from the subtle to the most horrific of ways?

Where and what good is your consciousness if you pray for peace on one hand yet allow the implementation of war consciousness to kill a child with a bomb, or a vaccine or a poisonous concoction of pesticides and genetically altered food? What good is your conscious awareness if you will not act on your convictions?

What good is consciousness if you have not dug deep into the sub-terrain of your soul and excavated your own knowledge, ownership of self-knowledge? This is the key to sovereignty and to freedom, anything less will fail for it is based on an outside authority, a god, a goddess, an interceptor who ultimately will destroy you and your illusion.

Shall we pause here to create a gap in these words for a long ponder?

Any Real ‘master’ who has a following will ultimately destroy those who are following him or her … for there doesn’t exist a code, a scripture, a system that can be taken into the great unknown of yourself. You can be led there only to realize that the master is you.

Oh, let me make a point so salient and clear here as I am astounded at the idiocy of thought that calls love, light and the inverse (get it, inner verse) dark, evil. So let me strip away this misconceptualization of Love. Goodness above and below, to fracture Love in such a way is a true barbarity. Love Knows Itself in All things, Love is the glue, Love is what holds the two sides of the coin together. Love is the middle path and Love is the very energy of space. The tiny and the vast, the light and the dark…

She sets these musings aside, so they stand apart for further penetration. She asks not that you hear Her, only that you listen to the deeper you, the one of logic with heart, the wise one that dwelleth within, the true teacher.

So here is the human conundrum, who is the 100th monkey? Which of us will ultimately be ‘the one’ to unplug from the control matrix, who will find the inner courage to set sails on higher seas, who will take the long breath and dive deep enough to find them self?

This me has grown weary of writing for the awake and aware who negate their own propensity for good by their actions. For those who know better and don’t do better. For those who tremble at the door they cracked open. For the lies that continue to be spewed in irreversible streams of stupidity. Yes, weary.

May my weariness turn in kind to further action, may I reach out of the bubble of consciousness within the alternative community that seeks to self congratulate itself only to find it has created another layer within the seemingly endless game.

Excuse me while I yawn.

Nothing has changed within the collective mind of alternative community, two words I will now vanish from my lexicon. For those who ply and barter and sell information, you have only managed to fool themselves back into the waiting maw of falsity and hypocrisy. Such a desert of dry sand I see forming there, no water to be found.

She turns another way now, she sets her sails on a new tack and with a child’s wonder looks to the stars reflected in the pool of her own body, she laughs as a little bubble of joy floats to the surface.

Es ist , was es ist

It is nonsense says reason;
It is what it is says love;  

It is calamity says calculation;
It is nothing but pain says fear;
It is hopeless says insight;
It is what it is says love;

It is ludicrous says pride;
It is foolish says caution;
It is impossible says experience;
It is what it is;
Says love.

Erich Fried 1921-1988

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What I have to offer is gratitude; for Patrick who sent me the above as I finished today’s writing, for my dearest ever friend who holds my hand and trims my sails, for those who are castaways and companions on this journey of the unknown and unfathomable mysteries that we are…

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Pam Kennedy
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Pam Kennedy

Christine, you’ve really penetrated me with this flow of weary yet loving truth. I’ve sat with your article for about an hour, tears running down, deep breaths coming and going. It has hit a deep chord within. Your feelings are expressed so well and have helped me move my pain to a level where I can ache with the weariness and…the increased awareness. I sense that many others are at this same place. I don’t normally throw in the towel and yet I’ve thought about doing just that in the last few days. We’ve come so far and yet changed… Read more »