People and voices go from me now, I need time alone to cry and sigh and be hopeless, this world is relentless, now my defenses are down, I give up, all the way, or no I am still writing, how pathetic, I've held on, I never rest, but sleep so much, and when I'm awake, its just a pattern, like the nature on the leaves, everything is beautiful but sometimes passion leaves me on a bedside with a strange life and a strange set of ideas, none of them seem to lead any closer to the truth. Life is so magical, I read it everywhere, where are these people with the flowers in their hair? The fairies, everything is so hard, and so much want, and so much hopelessness in people, so many who have given up searching though their hearts linger still on that feeling. Everyone calls it differently, but we all feel it the same, does it really need a name? Unnamed everybody, said Tim Kinsella, and he had a point there, but we all fall into patterns and we all love names. Aisha Deersound Linole, it seems like mine has been like a spell, it has shown me how things could be at their best, and their worst, it has been met with much animosity, though which leaves me saddened, where do I show myself? I went to a radical faeries meeting and it was kind of real there, but nothing like the dancing through the field in the rain with headphones and falling down and singing I love you's to everything and everywhere. Maybe nothing could ever be better than that. We've got to open our hearts, to one another, when we meet in the day, we've got to shine our lights
together, and give... give in unusual ways, I was at a group meditation and went so deep, yet who where these people around me, we were all in love, but who were they? And what did it all mean, life is a grain of sand on the edge of the beach of mystery and its always being swept away by the waves. The groups of people that form and fall away, these little streams of hope I get, based on someones words, or some glimpse of true full life, or realization of the way things really are. They mean little, because though I speak them, it seems ears will not comprehend them fully. Because it is beyond any statement, it is life itself, a way of life, and where does the I end and the we begin or anything of that manner? And does it matter, or do these chaotic meanderings filled with intention, to destroy capitalism and live harmoniously and happily. Happy and free. I see that the communities of the world seem to all understand this at their core, but are surrounded in seperations, everything is seperated, is making itself distinct. There is so much to do, but maybe there is nothing to do, for we have already arrived at perfection, we've just got to let ourselves go, to truly relax into the flow of life, and speak when we must, and sleep when we must and dance when we must, the universe is a blanket, or a house, and we are all painting the walls with our lives, what a mandala, what a beautiful home this is just in the making. For ever, it seems to go on, like my love for this unknowableness. Like my quest for a boyfriend! Like so many small and wonderful things in life, the rising sun and the bands of crickets that play in the woods. There are people everywhere, and we are centers for this energy of consciousness, vehicles of being and life, in all its flavors and all its moods and puzzles. I speak only for myself, but in myself I know there are valleys and peaks and there are worlds like this one, but they are unseen, and they are better. I just want them out here, so I try and find the words, I try and drum them up, I try and draw them and talk about it, wanti, I say, to me this is just that feeling, that feeling we are all reaching towards, that place where one rests at. Why do we live in this fantasy, where we are always fighting this system? This idea of 'they' where does it come from? There is only love, perhaps but this love seems to vital to be pinned down in those who just don't know how to chill.
Chilling, is something that is important, to relax and be in tune with life, to know when to not be relaxed, to let it go, this wanting to be anything that isn't neccesary, this wanting to not be too much of anything, to be good at being chill. The most chill dudes, and girls I've ever known have always been the ones who said those things that were sincere and from the heart, they weren't really trying to do anything usually, or sometimes they had truly noble goals. But always they said things that stuck in your heart, in your mind.
"You do not talk enough"
The world tells me to speak up, but can't it quiet down too? Can we let go of ourselves, and be what we are, I imagine those who can, who are wealthy, who have everything, much more than is needed, random giving, is cool, random giving is chill. These words are realer than anything though, I just love the way they look as the appear out of nothing, and all giving and taking is gone when we reach the 5th dimension, and ascend time, and space, and more being begin to create our own realities, and build upon those newly created dreams of others, because I feel this is the only way, we must look within and bring these things out. The deer have much to show us, as they scurry through the woods, I wonder what they are leading us to, slowly, perhaps a whole lot of nothing, wouldn't that be peaceful. All the animals are waking up, they are seeing their lives as lives, as energies, and I do to, my life is my love, and is through so much that I am only sometimes able to say hello, to the rain and to the sun and all the beings on the planet and throughout the universe, I only intend to bring up in them some sense of family, and remembering we all come from that same source, called what you will, and this feeling that we all share, down to every molecule, atom, and quark, this feeling that transcends any knowing aside from a knowing of a feeling. This is our true home, and I don't know, at home I can do so much, but when I am a traveller in a strange land, even in my own home, in my own skin, it seems hard at times, it seems blunted by something, but what this something is, who knows? Something perhaps only in myself, we have to reteach ourselves to dive into passion and bring back the worlds, all the worlds on the walls of the universe so we can wake up and be sucked into the portals without fear, knowing these are all good places, and they are, there I am reading sutras, and smoking weed, and thinking I smoke weed too much, and I read sutras too much,
and being self centered. We are cultivating peace and harmony, in these words, we are returning to that feeling, where words are no longer but a lot could be said. Returning to the spirit of our true selves.
So I write this from wanti now and say hey, the day is a bay, and the fish are kisses, there is no time, the rocks are my socks, man
men women and children, everything is water
the poetry of living, the goddess in the herbs
in nature that permeates
in every divine vessel
in every memory in your body, hey
love, i am just a cloud on a road to myself
just aching for that feeling
that true bliss that holds like a hug and doesn't let go
and even says hello
mellow
yellow
shells
waiting in the forset
ringing little bells
yeah.. yeah.. yeah.. it is all one process, so who can give any of it away, it is all one continuous process, one huge love poem I say, that it is for me, and though its lost all poeticness is some points what could be fuller? all the endlessness of endless endlessnicities...and the final statement i do not have
