The beast stood a giantess With obsidian skin Her eyes looked over the threshold Paying no respect to my dignity As still as stone I became Moved to motionlessness by the violation She perched to rise higher And I still startled yet unstirred Felt my form shrink I was not ready I’m not ready to cross this threshold To feel the granule of my purity Stripped of all the recognizable me I will leave and I will return On the day that I am the beast
Life is bright Bright like the day And the day is sometimes hot Sometimes it burns to be alive I carry non-existence as my parasol Enough meaninglessness to stand in the shadow of- To remind me that the pressure The resistance The gravity A reality Which are all both bright and hot Do not penetrate the objective bigness of the planet Let alone our galaxy whose edges we shall never breach Life is bright Bright like the day
The official document called it an Act of God Which says a lot to our relationship with the divine
My white walls becoming black My black sofa growing a shade of grey I’m reminded that yin yang means balance
Nature mingling with where I once nurtured myself Drafting and dripping in through a gaping, draping ceiling I come close to understanding how Job must have felt
And balanced is the farthest from how I feel I feel the scales tipping over against my favor
Wind, rain, and mold have won this battle Leaving the victims Myself and the oak that sits at 28 degrees Her canopy a makeshift thatched-roof that keeps out the sun and nothing else
I no longer understand the phrase “to storm out” All that was sudden has been my adrenaline Six days of warning Four days of road closure Nine days of waiting I wish money would storm out on me with such sluggish notice But the storm is still here The only one out is me
And the oak, still struggling to nestle it’s way more fully into my home But both have a signed death warrant And I have nothing, save my health But you can’t live in your health Nor store your books atop it Nor hang your coat upon it
Leadership begs for leaders On bended knees with clasped hands Leadership prays for companions Because leadership itself does not lead Leadership supports Leadership empowers the empowerer Leadership abhors arrogance And spits at the feet of the prideful Leadership stands behind the commander Leadership stands beside the hero Leadership stands miles ahead of the conqueror And yet still it is a warrior Because leadership must battle itself And will never concede defeat, merely retreat Leadership will not die a martyr But leadership is a prince who lives as a pauper Leadership is humble And prostrate, leadership pleads For leaders For those who would find a lost cause and bring it home
Sometimes there is nothing more honest than pretend Sometimes the costume peels away the facade At times my natural smile it’s more like makeup And I find that my proper speech is make-believe It is in those moments that I wear the mask of my true countenance That I run home to the privacy of my four walls That I play the role of the person the world asks not to see And so I walk as a fake me in the real world Relegating myself to fantasy
When do we become our own? Hatchlings from Athena’s womb What act of will is free And of what does freedom stitch its fibers? A man awake need not be conscious If in fantasy he suspends the sense No being possesses his action that doesn’t too his thought When do we become our own? Only when we lose our minds?
Touch your body to me Let the space between us shrink So I can crawl into it Cloister myself from the bigness of the world And join in flesh with another being To frighten away the monsters I’m afraid being a person is far too hard So let me For a while Be two. Let me borrow your soft mass and cloak myself in your senses Existence is frightening So help me disappear into blissful non-being Dissolving into actions not my own Behaviors we both intended Let us become them Until I can bear living again
Let me sleep in the shallow space between moments Lying silently in the nook of your syllables I, in the blink of an eye, will experience dusk to dawn Escaping the room as you glance away, only to return with Your gaze
Spiritual idealists have been trying to claim observations of the natural world as proof of the ether since lightning and thunder first made us piss our loincloths. And as each generation turns, what science has continuously proven is that the natural worlds, both of Newton and of Einstein, do not need a spirit to intervene and make it work.
Sure, there’s a great series of correspondences here. Newton’s laws correlate with Karma. Relativity mirrors alchemy and laws of vibration. Wave function collapse theory is a great metaphor for the power of clairvoyance. But that’s what it is. A metaphor. And it’s where we should be comfortable leaving it.
Spirituality, for a large part, is sublime and subtle. It loses integrity in the hardlines and sharp definitions of science. That isn’t a weakness. It’s actually a fundamental quality of the world. Am I my body? If so at what point do I end? Am I my microbiome? These aren’t answerable questions, but the answer isn’t the point. The gaping hole left by the un-answerability speaks to the truth of the natural world. A truth that science not only can’t explain but is actually quite unconcerned with.
Here’s your enlightenment: if you need to prove that the spirit exists to yourself, then your connection to spirit was too fragile to begin with. That fragility shouldn’t be shimmed by intrinsically weak logic or false statements. In fighting to make the case for it we end up with pseudoscience and superficial spiritual systems, both of which fail to produce the depth and purity of effect of their more rigorous counterparts.
Science is our observation of the natural world. Spirit is that we observe at all. And that’s enough.
Science answers how. Spirit is awed by why. And that’s enough.
Science is the fact that things happen. Spirit is the wisdom that it means something. And guess what. That’s enough.
If you really want to help demonstrate the reality of spirituality, lead someone down a spiritual journey. Teach them how to open their awareness to the present. Make them listen to Colors of the Wind while using hallucinogens. But don’t turn reserved scientific words and unvalidated reports into “proof” of the unknowable. Trying to force shut false Cartesian dichotomies by appropriating precise sciences and leveraging the general population’s ignorance of how quantum math works and the apparent paradoxes thereof is foolish. It’s MANIPULATIVE at best and SPIRITUALLY BACKWARDS at worst. That’s not to mention the very real and measurable damage it does to science which needs a sterile and ethically unbiased environment to do its job.
I’m sorry. I know it’s convenient to do it. And I know you do it because most of you are scared. You’re scared that science is totally correct and is the only paradigm the world needs. You’re afraid that if you don’t claim some corner or scrap of what scientific observation has that you will lose what seems to be an age-old war. But let me assure you of something. If you continue to attempt “God of the gaps” tactics, you will run out of credibility before you even run out of gaps. And then you will lose. Which is a shame because the world honestly needs spirit. It needs wonder. It needs to bathe in the sea of experience.
So please, read this and repeat after me because we will all be better for it if we understand that suspending experience in blissful wonder is really what we’re mostly meant to do: “simply observing that I am is enough to validate my soul.” There, you can release all that anxiety now.
I perceive more miraculous anomalies in one nanometer of your anatomy than in the nativity. Never have I felt an affinity so near infinity My mind is a magazine, and you An Emmy nominee Nominally amazing In every manner you can manage I am a man enamored of your image Even imagining your mammaries Your beauty damning, demanding the greed of Mammon It’s mildly maddening Being mentally un-emancipated from the energy you emanate Trapped in your very memory Meaning with the best amenities As an important emissary imprisoned with no indemnity. Appoint me to serve you Saying Namaste on my knees I’d admonish your enemies and nemeses Mend endemic emergencies. Madame, Please allow me to meet with you intimately.