Sureality

Surreal would be the word that best describes the feeling of how things have been for me, since we last spoke. There has been turns bends, valleys, and mountain passes traversed in this journey that I dare call my own. And not one jot-nor-tittle of it all escapes my every emotion and mental prowess. I am wholly present with every moment, as each experience consumes the whole of my primordial senses. I equate the majority of all of this, to a series of storms: each bringing its own rainbow. Yet, getting to the proper place to see the rainbows is another story altogether, when one becomes consumed by the shelters of the chaos that comes with that relentless change that all storms bring, to the airs of our hearts and minds. Whether wet with regret or dry with disdain, I always favor the standing aright-and-unmoved within the strongest areas of such storms with the unbridled stance of what I like to think of as being fearless in: come what may. That is… until I realized I was the storm keeper, ruler of the seas of change, and shepherd of the flock of remembrance.  And herein my journey began anew with a newer sight than all that was previously seen, whilst sounds unheard cascaded o’er the depths of my listening pleasure. Even within the stillness of my screaming plight for stability, I ne’er knew a time of stagnation within the constant movement of sound about me, as every step was and still remains a movement of meditation and calm repose. And thoughts like a riddler’s dream beckon me to answer the unanswerable conundrums of life’s circular queries that dance within the presence of every aspiring mind that seeks to better the fortress of self, in the lands of detachment. I steadily push onward unto the plateau I know I shan’t ever reach, as I reach ever-upwards to the rungs I know I shan’t ever know the-footing-of, whilst I settle into the robes of contentment for those moments of the here-and-now; and this too shall pass away. Yet, I remain steadfast and unmoved, in the calling that remains a burdensome comfort to the thinking mind, as I reflect upon the unseen purpose of forgetting what it was I was to do: before I entered into communion with the Spirit: and took upon my lit awareness the dimly shaded light of the flesh, that I may enter the gauntlet of the material plane, that I may know the joys and anguish of traversing the battling plains of dualism, whilst setting the few of whom I am assigned… free from the sweltering bitterness of their own faded glory, whilst they dream of becoming freed from the duality of their own creations, that binds them to the woes of separation: a separation that they agreed to maintain the belief of as they think, speak, and act within the causational movements of  displaced responsibilities; Responsibilities that have been carried on from previous generations, that are still acting out the roles of an enslaved species. Most are bereft of pride, and find tenderness and compassion to be far from them as they bask in the tumultuous waves of the risen-and-fallen, whom each must individually face their own passages-of-death, as they lay the personality to its final resting place neath the shroud of their own envy, knowing that whomever might remember them once knew that they too had forgotten someone they once cared for, appreciated, and perhaps even loved. And regret carries their last breath into the prayers and hopes that they might finally be freed from the sufferings and pains of everyone’s long trodden incarnation. Yet the dark night of the soul is not as dark as it may seem to the one whom dwells in the sorrows of the yesteryears. For there is always a glimpse of satisfaction for them, behind the fractured images of self as each thought of the past is carried so far into the future that each present moment is lived as if it were already a part of the past that they would rather ne’er remember; Yet they bask in the joyous pity of damning their inability to forget. And for what doth any of it do for those whom bear witness upon those whom suffer or die, other than calcifying any intentions of change or actuations of movement for truthfully bettering one’s self: let alone the self of any other. And I watch as one-by-one, group-by-group, generation-upon-generation is carried into the valorous clenches of  yet another carefully placed altar of vanity, carefully built into the sense of self, whereupon they place their daily thoughts, emotions, and desires to rest before the throne room of their self-proclaimed wounded heart. Who of the whole hath ne’er tripped or fallen short of the final outcome of what beco’mes them for the reasons they grow and evolve, or rather ought to.  Who hath ne’er crawled before walking or ne’er walked before running. And what comes after running, other than the place of contemplation wherein the settling is found within the sitting. Yet no matter the posture of the body, the condition of the temple, the weathering of the age, there rema’ins a constant movement of growth expressed by through and within the expansions and contractions of the inward and outward breath. Yet who of us when we breathe, breathe for the visualized purpose of another. And thus we discover that we breathe for ourselves, that our preconditioned states of awareness may be selfishly maintained by the preconditioned molds that we ourselves maintain, so that our delusions may continue to provide us the escape from the responsibility and accountability of what truth demands from she/he whom knows it, yet does it not: and thus sin remains.

There is no remorse within me for those whom hath become ensnared by the webs of those whom cling to the proclamations and acclamations of people that surround themselves with self-degrading abominations; abominations that foster beliefs that demoralize any aspect of the self, and/or the iconicized-idolatries that causes any sense-of-self within an individual’s perception of self to include turning self-degrading abominations into iconical-aspects of self, meant to become idolized. The absence of remorse within me for these types of people is not due to a lack of compassion and/or tolerance; it is due to my disdain for individual’s delusive-adherence to clinging to that which demoralizes the self in any way whatsoever, by the fake-soothsayers of today’s modernized occultic traditions.