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Thursday, January 12, 2017

Leaves from a tree at autumn and sometimes a few at winter

Those few leaves from the tree after autumn, they fall on the snow sometimes too...
This is an act of constructive thought. Neither bad nor good. Just, constructive.  read on with that theme in your mind....

I, as we all, have had struggles as of late.  Some can write the word "struggle" off and replace some other word with it. Which is fine.  Do what thou wilt.
My struggles have been finding my strength and level-calmness among what the Buddhists and Taoists would refer to as " reducing the chatter of the monkey mind".
 Other struggles per-say have been a real letting-go of a past relationship that left me with unanswered questions, like a passenger kicked out of a car on a highway.  Left to limp along the the shoulder of the highway with a bump on my head and a hazy memory and more questions confusingly answered and at the same time outright unanswered. Questions of which I now realize I will not get a truthful answer to, but just partial cryptic answers based on perception of both/either party.  Perception is all we have so I lay no blame to the information I receive even though it doesn't quite satiate my yearn for an answer, any answer. To which, the answer is there ironically and cryptically, but it's there.  Yet as "uncle Pete" says: "Nothing is true, everything is permissible." Thus, there are no answers, only thoughts and contemplation with partial acceptance of an accepted answer or  surrendered perceptual insight.
So then I relinquish some sort of culmination of the two as related- strength and answers.  Related and tied in various state dependencies regarding age, time, perception, and, of course circumstance and story.
I contemplate greatly on a few questions-
"Why should I care?"
and
"I know what to do, why aren't I aligning with my desired conclusion, desired forethought and afterthought?"
and
"Why don't I just shut that book and walk on?"
and
most importantly
"How the fuck did I get here and what fresh hell is this I came into/created?!"
I know more, see more, understand more than most people.  That's probably the problem.  Too many angles, too many insights, oh the list goes on... We all know those chattering minds we all have.  And we're usually left to just that, ourselves and our chattering minds no matter the extent of the reach of reaching out to others for insight to answers and strength solidified. Ultimately, you are left to your own thoughts. As you should be.
Be it to our detriment and our benefit lovingly the same in some ironically peculiar way, it's there.  Don't rise above me nor below me.  You know. We all do.
More importantly-
Don't think you can sit right there with me in my mind; with what I feel and think.  Nor shall I think I can sit right there with you in yours. I'm at least humble and noble in that regard.
But one thing I am not, nor should you be, copacetic and agreeable with mine nor your insight and translation of perception and understanding.  You'll never get there.  You'll get close. Close enough, but never on par. This applies to all. Do what thou wilt with the leaves that should have fallen during autumn but fell late during winter.
Care,
Slevin







Tuesday, December 20, 2016

The truth, what a joke actually...

The "truth", isn't. There to me is no truth. Only a dictate of what we as individuals see as our own truths. My true self is neither here not far, separate nor apart. It is always there, amidst all of everything. Always present, always never-present. Within a space without a space. Everything is true. Nothing is permissible. Tis only your work from which you deem as your own work and never truth.

We all speak much but say very little.  We try to convey and communicate something, and then, like a fart in a skillet, it's gone.

The truth is a joke, a fallacy, a stupid thought from a monkey mind of dumb interpretation to which we try to say to someone else, anyone else, just someone. 
But once it hits anyone, someone else; it's gone. 
The thought and the meaning, the message is gone.
So, then what?  I'm at the same loss you are. Then what? 
Where did that amazing idea and message go?  It's gone. 
Only to be somewhat interpreted and understood by another brain.
I too have much to say.  Much to say and very little to finally convey.  Like a thief in the night, it's gone and done with however many more thoughts and contemplations you yourself do without me.

Care,
 Slevin

Friday, November 18, 2016

One foot in one world, the other foot in the other world...






One foot in one world, and the other foot in another world...
A foot in both worlds.  

Once again, I went to write something, had such a great idea of what to write and that moment the blog posting screen flickered up, I lost most of it. Most of what I was going to say and write.  Typical.  Perhaps it's an indicator that maybe I shouldn't write what I should want to say.  Or perhaps I should write it and when I have it, I should take great care and hold onto it.  Either way, it's what I wanted to write and what I ended up not intending to write.  I digress.

A friend once told me "you have a uniqueness of having one foot in one world and another foot, in another world"... "You embrace the old adage of being in this world, but not of it".

I take great care of realizing this game here in this world, the material world.  And I know that even though it's not all there is, I manage and traverse the material world quite well. I do so because I keep a foot not only in the material world, but all the while there's the other foot in the other world.  Call it the spiritual world, mystical world, magical world, whatever the fuck you want to call it.  It's a range. It ranges from the sad poet Keats to the wild magician Crowley. Quite the contrast of views and range of personality.

What I wanted to say, was lost.  Lost in my original thought. Thanks to this shitty laptop constantly crashing it’s network adapter.  Interrupting my train of thought.  Thus thence train of thought lost. Like biting into a lemon and before the tinge takes hold, it goes away.  You get the point.  Essentially what I was trying to say was-It’s ok to have one foot in the material world and another foot in whatever world you want to call it. That balance is key. To me at least, it’s key. Not only for navigational purposes but for sanity and working semblance. Spiritual materialism and spiritual bypassing are pitfalls. Dangerous pitfalls of unending perpetual losing of oneself, never seeing through it.  One cannot and should not rely only on the insights gained from a spiritual path, but also take into consideration the material path. Keep that balance, or get lost.  You will never find anything only in one space.  If you think you do, then you’re fooling yourself and selling yourself short.  You’ll be stuck in a double binary loop and not even know it.  You’ll become a sad guru only onto yourself.. a legend in your own mind. Don’t do that. You'll find nothing if you do so. Mental masturbation will only follow and get reciprocated in that loop. 
You're getting there.. keep pushing...keep going...stay strong... DO.

Without that balance, the delusion, Apep sits in wait for you.  You’ll trip and fall into delusion on either side. Keep that balance. One foot in one world, the other foot in the other world. Walk that line, and you’ll be fine.

 Care,

Slevin

Wednesday, September 28, 2016

gentleness... Stop, Drop, and Roll...


So, here I am, faced with a situation that gives me pause.  Pause to think about my own mortality.  I won't delve into the specifics, but I've had a recent event that has given me such pause.  That pause stirred me to write.  Write I will and shall but per usual, my prose rarely does it justice.  Which is okay. But at least I gave it a shot to do something about it and write.
A recent event gave me pause, pause to stop drop and roll- as that old adage/suggestion goes- when on fire- stop, drop and roll.
As most of us do throughout our lives, we have certain events that stir us from our usual slumber.  Certain events that make us think and reevaluate our lives stemming from certain circumstances that stir us from said slumber.
Such a certain circumstance did something to me.
Life is short. Sure it is.  Sure it always is.  That often times phrase of life being short, to me, is bullshit, in a way. 
It makes me think, why don't we always keep such a mindset?  Why don't we take even a split second to understand that?  Why must a shock to our system that wakes us up for a moment, do only just that? When we should behave and act as though every moment should be like that?  Not just one event to make us take pause and be present but why shouldn't all moments charge us with understanding that mindset of being in the present and mindful?
To understand and really know, we are the captains, we are the commanders, we are the sculptors, the artists of our own lives.  We have the power.  We are that power. 
Be it any situation that created that moment of clarity or moment of realizing there are stressful things and events that could and do curtail specific thoughts from those events that make you not only take pause but ask yourself "why the fuck am I spending energy on all this other shit while there are some things that take me to a realization of my own mortality and thus stem to make me take real stock... Take inventory of my life, and the things not only do I value but the things I choose to spend my energy on....
So I ask you while I ask  myself the same question- what is worth it?  What's worth getting worked up for?  Where's my choice to do so? 
My answer:
Recognize that choice.  Embrace that choice.  Take that choice. Make that choice and make that fucking choice based on how you are to handle it and work with it.
Be gentle on yourself.  But still make that choice. That choice how to react. That choice on what do with your situation.  You always have a choice.  There is never a time that you don't have a choice.
When you catch fire- stop, drop and roll.  Get up and make a choice what to do next. You can be harsh on yourself later or now. 
What's next?  You were on fire... you stopped, dropped, and rolled. You brushed off the hot feathering flames and now you stand. You're up, what do you do now?
Again, your choice.  But for now, at that moment, this moment, be gentle on yourself.  The rest, is just details. 


Care,
Slevin

Tuesday, December 8, 2015

A Candle In The Dark...

Allow me, if you will...

This comes from a Hindu school of thought:
pAramArthika satya

pAramArthika: My existence is not dependent upon the mind in any way.
prAtibhAsika: The dream-tiger has absolutely no existence apart from the dreamer's mind, the dream-tiger is mental activity alone. Wherever the mind sees the dream-tiger, if it saw a dream-goat instead, the perception would be just as valid.


 For my own interpretation and thought process:

Picture yourself in a dark room, meditating, or sitting there quietly, in a dark room. 
You're told there is a snake in the room.  A big poisonous snake, in the room with you.
You can't see it.  But that snake is in that room with you, in the dark room.
So you sit there, you try to meditate and drift off. But you know that snake is in that room, probably close to you.. Could most likely bite you.  You sit there in fear, and wonder.  Will it bite you?  What is that snake doing?
Is it right next to you?
Is it in on the other side of the room?
                       .....Maybe coiling up beside your leg?
                                 Maybe behind you ready to bite if you move a muscle...




During that time of wondering and fear, a candle lights up.
         The candle flickers.

The candle flickers for a moment and brings light to the room.

          You glimpse the room in that flicker.
                                               You see the room and you see the snake.
                         You see the snake, it's not a snake...
                        ....that snake is not a snake. It's just a rope.


What now?
How do you feel?


Care,
Slevin



Sunday, December 6, 2015

Friday, December 4, 2015

Thursday, December 3, 2015

Sink, Swim, or Sunbathe...

Inspired by recent events.  Like most artists, they are inspired by their own real-life events.  I am no artist though.  I just am.

Preface: "You", "I". It isn't you or me. Or who you think it may be.  It's really a look into an aspect of the human condition. Because it happens to all of "us".  "You" and "I".

Here 'I" go....

Dig deep.  Where is it truly coming from?  How did you get here?
Think, dig dig dig dig.  Go deep.  Painfully fucking deep.
Touching on those painful and deep parts are probably the most healing things you'll ever encounter.

Going to the root of the pain.  Seeing the real cause.  Sticking your finger in that wound, making it hurt like all hell. That bloody wound, stick that finger in it and twist it around.
 Probably the best thing for you.  It will hurt. It should. It will heal but it will hurt at first. It should. Don't tell me otherwise.  And hey, some of the most glorious and blissful things you encounter will have the same effect.  But we are right now, now, looking at that pain.  Because you're in it right now. You're in that pain, that low place.  
You're still there regardless of what you tell yourself or anyone else.
You're there. It isn't fun.  But you are there.
So am I and everyone else.  We all are.  No exemptions nor exceptions.

"Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you." 
"What the thinker thinks, the prover proves."
              Sound familiar?  
                                        Feel familiar?
You did all of those things probably unconsciously- And now, the doors are wide open unto you and you don't want to look inside but you do with one eye.
And you don't know how to understand it, how to take it in. How to digest it.
 It's a hard pill to swallow let alone understand.
 It's a jagged, sharp edged spiky little pill.
But you took that pill.  Nobody force fed it to you.
      You popped that sharp jagged little spiky fucker in your mouth and swallowed it down. 

I'm sorry you're in that place.  I am but I am not, actually.  Tough love comes to mind.
 Because I have been there and will be there again, I am quite sure.
We all have been there and we all will be there again.
 So seek, covet, find, understand.
Or wallow, and eat up that cortisol created by the the zona fasciculata of the adrenal cortex within the adrenal gland. Cortisol is released in response to stress and low blood-glucose concentration. It can flood your body and it makes you ache all over. In mind and body. Puts you in a "bad" place.   What place?  Where?

If you do it enough, you'll become addicted to that lovely bad candy.
Patterns will emerge to trigger that cortisol creation and take hold as a common pattern. 
Then, low and behold you are eating that bad candy like it's good candy.   
You seek out that bad good candy without even realizing it's neither bad nor good. You just eat it.



Now... Take a breath...
Raise your head above the waterline for a moment. Swim up. Take a breath.  Inhale some fresh air. Deep.
Deep breath.  Tread some water. Look around for a moment. Your head is above water.  
You're OK. You're fine. 

Take a breath, take a moment and look around.
Let those water droplets fall down from your forehead down to your eyelashes into your eyes.  
Take some stock. Take some personal inventory, right now.  Flutter your eyes. Breathe. Move your head around.  Look around. Swim for a bit without thought.  Try.

 Hey- It's not so bad.  Is it?  That's your answer.  Isn't it?
But really, is it that bad?  
Keep treading water and looking around while you swim there on your own and look around. 
                      It's not that bad.
                                                If it is, how bad is it then?  
                                                                                          I doubt it.  
                                                                                                         So do you.
The water surrounding your body is warm and soothing. Such a nice swim. Be it in the ocean, a lake or a pool.  You're there.  You're swimming, treading water nicely and looking around, seeing, looking.  

What do you do know?  
                          What's next?
                   Your choice.
                Always has been.  Always will be.
                     Swim back down.  Or swim up.
Hop up on the diving board and hop back in.
                 Hop out,  dry off, and go sit on a lounge chair and take that sun in.
The warm water in the pool is just as good as the warm sun on that chair.

                                  It's your choice. 
                                  Always has been.


Monday, November 30, 2015

Baltasar Gracian, The Art Of Worldy Wisdom

... I've been in need of some wisdom, who isn't?


I'm converting (trying to) some mind consuming thoughts into creativity...
I wronged someone nearer and dearer to my heart than I am... and I fear it might be irreparable.  Biggest mistake of my life yet. If I could change things and if the cost be shaving 10 years off my life, I wouldn't hesitate.

This blog is alive again.  It will revert to it's original prose.  But for now, I thought to change it up a bit.  At least to better ease my troubled mind and transform it to being less troubled.  Yoga helps, Qi Gong helps, meditation and conversations with my higher self/psyche has helped.  But I need to do more.  More of an outlet out into the universe through a digital means.  We shall see....

When I was 19 years old (nearly 20 years ago, yikes), I came across this book at a book sale:



My copy is quite vintage:
 Zoom-in of the writing on the bottom:
I love the first line- "This isn't a sweet treat for children"





It's a collection of 300 aphorisms written by a Spanish born Jesuit Priest.   Upon reading it, I couldn't tell a Jesuit wrote it. Then again, Jesuits are a peculiar bunch, to say the least.  I've met a few in my day...

"It might seem strange that after Spanish-born Baltasar Gracián’s collection of sayings were written in the 17th century they would find themselves on a modern-day nonfiction bestsellers list, but there is a bounty of timeless truth contained within The Art of Worldly Wisdom. That, along with the appealing Baroque style of Conceptismo – characterized by both an economy of, and a great deal of witty play with words – in which the book is written, produces an appealing and accessible guide to living and being a better version of yourself, and accounts for the renewed interest dating from the late 20th century"

A collection of 300 aphorisms on life and the way you should live or handle what life my throw your way...

The 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica wrote of Gracián that "He has been excessively praised by Schopenhauer, whose appreciation of the author induced him to translate the Oráculo manual, and he has been unduly depreciated by Ticknor and others. He is an acute thinker and observer, misled by his systematic misanthropy and by his fantastic literary theories."

Nietzsche wrote of the Oráculo, "Europe has never produced anything finer or more complicated in matters of moral subtlety," and Schopenhauer, who translated it into German, considered the book "Absolutely unique... a book made for constant use...a companion for life" for "those who wish to prosper in the great world." A translation of the Oraculo manual from the Spanish by Joseph Jacobs (London: Macmillan and Co., Limited), first published in 1892, was a huge commercial success, with many reprintings over the years (most recently by Shambala). Jacobs’ translation is alleged to have been read by Winston Churchill, seven years later, on the ship taking him to the Boer Wars. 

I then came across the audio book (on tape, yes, cassette tape) and played it on repeat until the poor tape gave out on me.  My friends would even ask me to play it while they rode with me.  It truly has wonderful nuggets of truth an insight on many aspects of life.  I can't find a CD version.  The search continues.

A few years ago, I decided to pick the book up again and have been posting his ahporisms on facebook.  Yes, facebook.  Although fb mostly a cesspool of drama and egoism, it also has nuggets, diamonds poking through the mud, stars looking at you through a night sky polluted with city lights...

Not until recently this sage has received more "likes".  I will begin posting again.  More things to dissapate my weary mind during the storm.


The link to my homeboy Baltasar can be found



Care,

Slevin


Saturday, November 28, 2015

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Home, Again

Tattered and torn, tired and traveled, broken and born...He approached her with silent reverence and knelt down to be received in her arms once again.
In a seamlessly perfect orchestration: her wings relaxed as her arms wrapped around him, his head bowed, eyes closed, lungs relinquished a great exhale in sweet surrender of solace.  A surrender of solace of a grandiose magnitude of deafening silence and time stopping paradigm.

As her arms wrapped tighter around him, she rested her lips on his neck as if a key slid into a lock perfectly, she whispered ever so softly yet with purpose:
 Rest now, my love.  For you are home again.  My weary traveler, my soul... here lies your sanctuary, my sanctuary, your heart, my heart, your love, my love,our love, us. Take refuge once again in my arms, my rowdy restless angel, for you, are home, again."


Though he tried- weep he could not.  Like those moments that one is beyond a cry, a moment beyond soliciting such.
 A feeling, beyond the best synonym or poetically licensed reverse antonym could even compare and incite a milligram of a salty tear.  To paraphrase such a moment and feeling would indeed be a crime.  A moment that can't come close to any humanly description.
He could not speak nor move, nor do anything, but kneel, bow, be received by her, and be in that glorious silence of her whispered words that brushed his neck like Picasso with his last stroke. At that moment in time and space, receiving her all too familiar gift that he so searched for, yearned for, and ached for, again. He could not move nor speak nor breathe. He could do nothing but be still in mind and motion, kneel and receive. He would not move a nanometer in fear of losing that moment.
Every time she says "my love" he is transcended, suspended, unfolded, and made whole again.  Those two combined words- "my love"  are made esoteric, and sacred again.  Those words strike his soul so profoundly and deeply. 

That moment... That moment he understood the whole of meaning.  He understood the universe, becoming, and beyond.  Beyond all time and all space.  Time and space to him became a condensed sphere of sheer density and connectivity.

The mysteries of everything became revealed at once at that exact moment she wrapped her arms around him and gently whispered her words.  The slow gentle bloom of a flower, the ending of a rainstorm, the moment of the sun peeking behind the clouds, the slit of the sunrise, the sunset on every horizon, the familiar gentle breeze across his face. He knew home, once again.
In all that realization and unfolding he underwent in a mere moment, he finally wept.  He once again, surrendered and finally wept.
Grateful that he again found her. They were both home, again. 
Her words once again resonate to his core:
"Rest now, my love.  For you are home again.  My weary traveler, my soul... here lies your sanctuary, my sanctuary, your heart, my heart, your love, my love,our love, us. Take refuge once again in my arms, my rowdy restless angel, you, are home, again."