The thing with dead ends
is when you reach one,
you have to turn around.
I find certain practices of mine
still attempting themselves.
I find myriad angles of viewpoints,
yet no throughway beyond the maze.
I complain of spiritual complacency,
yet the new moon approaches
and I scribble again in my hemp-paper hippie journal
The planet does its spin and the wars continue to confuse,
and still I pray,
not knowing what else to do.
I yearn for a solution from outside the frame of thinking which created the problem. But am I still thinking within this realm anyway? I complain that we retreat into meditation and bliss ourselves out, while children die daily… But then if I don't retreat into some form of meditation, my heart aches. How can I make my meditations more succinct in their purpose? Not just to lighten myself and raise myself, but to anchor such processes for the sake of our world?
I beseech the heavens to hear my pleas for peace, within myself and within the world.
I close my eyes and see endless movements of whirling possibilities of blissfulness, or nothing at all, just stillness and calm, just darkness, the void.
Hot light from the Leo Sun blasts through the numbness,
a prismatic little rainbow shows itself at the tip of a cloud on my evening walk,
if only it weren't a chem-trail cloud, my inner monologue reminds me - teasing, taunting, jaded, dulled.
If only I weren't dulled
to the beauty before me,
while smog fills my airways and I grumble at the congestion within me, and the congestion wihin my city, my town, my beautiful inner and outer worlds… There is hope for us yet. More than hope. We're just stumbling towards it. It's not ahead or behind. It's a quantum degree away. So close. So far. No space, no distance. Love. A salve applicable to everything, but how exactly? I see it in the everyday minutiae, I see it in every epic grandness that can be epic and grand. And still, I pine for something a step beyond it, a seat beside it, an understanding deeper within it, a point of view from its very shadow.
"Our world is in crisis because of the absence of consciousness. And so to whatever degree any one of us, can bring back a small piece of the picture and contribute it to the building of the new paradigm, then we participate in the redemption of the human spirit, and that after all is what it's really all about."
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Alex Chemer Photography (my father)
Vera Rey Fine Art