Blessed Are The Meek [This piece was inspired by and created under the influence of Slugabed’s ”Earth is Gone Sorry” Feat. Lum]

There are the faces around that we all are, faces, already fading, about to be forgotten faces, blooming, withering and vanishing sea waves of faces, my face and your face to be lost sooner or later we are to lose no matter how hard we try to save it on facebook, from humiliation and utter oblivion, always already fading from the face of the Earth, every single face you ever face faces to be replaced, by other faces, as our faces have replaced the faces flowering before us, under the sun, nothing special,
Look.
Do you see?
Do you see them now?
Do you feel the love you actually feel for all of them? The faces up the streets, in the shops, in the parks and on the trams. The faces at work and the faces at home. The faces from the past, opposite, behind and next to yours, the newborn faces. Out and about. Take a look. Variations on a theme. Beneath all these faces we all share the same essence. Underneath the myriad faces there is only one sameone there.

nothing stays, on the face of it

What remains, in the end, nothing else remains but awareness, of this moment, above and in front of all the toyful joys and the soulfull sorrows of the person who is losing everybody and everything, slowly and surely, all that it—as an I—has ever attained or missed and all that it has ever grown fond of and loved, sooner or later, falls away, and then the truth meets the truth… this heart is breaking and oozing gooey pain at the thought of my parents fading, at the thought of an ex and the countless unpursued prospects blending into the impersonal mass of the female flesh I’m so mesmerized by day by day: nothing remains that I could hold on to, nothing that I can grasp, nobody, noone, nothing to fixate on, nothing that fix(at)es, nothing that grounds me, nothing to write about really, all the writing blurs into noise, another iteration of the same old, same old, everything pixelates, with me in the middle of it all, alive, a heart, ready to burst, or stop, almost, for real, and it’s beating on, for it’s only the mind that is blown away by the overwhelm called truth

Whose Freedom Actually?

Whose freedom am I protecting so desperately?

Outside the cloistered world of private practices such as ’sittling’ (sitting in/with stillness), journaling and strolling in solitude I tends to feel about to be engulfed and hemmed in by the demands, errands and duties of social existence. Outside its airtight little bubble—in an effort to make a living I gets caught up, much like a fly in a spider’s web, in interpersonal strings attached, unavoidably. I constantly seeks to fend off binding communal duties and obligations to offer phony terms of endearment. But then, this I that struggles so desperately for its precarious sense of peace & freedom is but an idea that needs constant maintenance too, and even though it’s merely an idea (that is entertained to keep the ’me’ feel real & separate) it’s, in effect, quite a costly one, in that it takes tremendous internal tension and lots of gut-wrenching & constipating melancholy to maintain. Which stands to reason, of course, given that outside its (buffering) practices the I as such would cease to exist. Now, imagine how devastating would that be? The prospect of no more suffering. It’s just too much to take, I guess.

At any rate, I still tries to reason its way out of its irrational ways and so it occasionally reminds itself that: No matter the type of reality tunnel one happens to inhabit it too will have its ups and downs, its inherent opportunity cost. The idea of protecting one’s freedom is totally nonsensical in this respect. Inside the insides of one’s sprawling rabbit hole there will be joys and there will be sorrows and the desire to protect one’s privacy and delicate freedom just as much as in any other rabbit hole out there. It’s all the same from an ego’s point of view. We all play the same human game. All the tension over the mental noise echoing and reverberating off the walls of our private holes, however, is completely redundant and meaningless.

The very effort to protect anything is what creates the reason for that thing to exist in the first place—it only exists in the effort but not beyond it.

Guru

Whenever you feel you need some form of guidance in an area of your life your best bet is to draw your relaxed attention to the issue at hand first thing at dawn when you wake up from your slumber: just rest and linger there half awake as you inquire, the guidance that comes from stillness is what you need.

/This is, incidentally, also the best time to practice ’sinking’ into ’the white noise’ in your ears (aka resting in stillness)/

Shame On Me [Fragments]

I as an ego have been (en)trained to fixate on pleasing others and feel ashamed and contract in emotional pain whenever (I (perceive that) I cause some form of (emotional) damage to an other. Yeah: I am absolutely loath to put a dent in youse delicate souls.

The emotional pain I typically feel stems either from a sense of guilt or shame [which compels me to recoil] or a sense of over-excitement [which compels me to grasp] and it functions like a black hole that siphons off my energetic flow (shunting blood sugar and cuing the stress hormones) leading to a crash, an energetic collapse (glycogen plummet), a shutdown of bowel movement and severe exhaustion or even a hangover headache in its aftermath.

Once I recognize that ’I’ ain’t the black hole (& totally bound by the gravitational pull of a self-obsessed ego) but that I am the limitless cosmos that contains it: the energetic see-saw dampens to a gentler, more sustainable swing.

In essence, this recognition comes when I finally come upon [=relax into] the distinction between white noise (aka stillness, true freedom) and noise (the emotional pain triggered by shame, guilt, frustration and the compulsion to struggle).