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

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absolution

the distance between
who you are and how you show up
/the measure of the mismatch
between your nature and your habits:
is the dis-ease you experience

rig your habits you adopt to your your deeper impulses
not the other way around

don’t toss off out of boredom
don’t eat without actual hunger
be tuned in
to the jolts of your embodied moments

____

they say that you attract not what you want
but what you are
but I don’t think it’s true,
no,
you don’t attract what you are,
rather, you attract what you do
and what you do is, in effect,
out of sync with what you are

that’s the ‘problem’ we call our life

walkie-talkie

as children we walked our talk
as adults all the walk got drained from our talk…

children try to walk until they learn how to walk
adults would like to try new things but won’t
or try only until failing a couple of times
yet deep down, we all are children inside
“we are all the same age inside”
beneath the encrustations of identity/face
which keep us confused and shocked out of open spontaneity
we are still ready to take up new skills and learn new things
we are ready to try until

if we let that inner child come alive again
we can play our way to mastery
no matter how many times we fall
no matter how much it hurts sometimes
we can learn to walk our walk