Awoke with the most astonishing dream ever. Never will I say no to them (as if I had a choice?) Because they come in various forms. This one was a dialog and I cannot say with God but maybe, could be, possibly I'm just a fruitcake; it was!
"Happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that, but simply growth. We are happy when we are growing." - William Butler Yeats
. . . just discovered the above and thought before I rest, for a time, I'd attempt to recapture this morning's eventful dream.
Ever since my many Yearbook Assignments at Saint Viator, Chicago northside. Incorporating attendance to various worship services. I was taken with their prayer to become an imago of Christ. . . . don't you just love Wikipedia! I looked it up for spelling purposes and there was a cicada becoming winged! Transformed, transfiguration, virgin birth? . . . as in the self we give birth to later in life.
In my dream I was informed that all life has a fragment, or seed, of God indwelling. Awaiting attention and available for transformation that supersedes all other modes of consciousness.
Blown apart, away, disappeared: that which I was just an hour or so ago. It happens all the time and the me who writes is now more at peace than I've known potential; or possible.
Of which, of course, could I reach through these pages as seen on your screen; I'd give you a taste like the communion cookie . . . how many have I consumed? Holding it pressed against the roof of my mouth until it dissolved into my skin internally?!
In love with love, and/or simply with God; time is irrelevant and death is but a passage into another state of mindfulness. Happily I enter the closing moments, this End Game, of what I used to call my life.
Trashed, abandoned, and despised, apparently by my parents, I trust very few people. My comedic facade/persona disarms most; and those it does not; flirt with the sophist in me. I can be and am at times diabolical, possibly fiendish, in my motives to retaliate. It seems now at this late age growing younger moment by second that my steady gaze in my mothers eyes and she stomped or threw me naked out the house . . . well . . . it could be she was merely insane to begin with? I have seen the cobra's lunge so many times I don't even think to flinch.
And she cried nor laughed never in my presence; never asked for forgiveness, yet daily given in love for her well being with God for her training me to be who and what I am. Add the love of two women who met briefly at hospice. I introduced them and one asks for the welfare of the other and she tells me I'm a rooster?!
Though I have engaged many men in conversation, there were more innocuous, than celebrities I remember well. But of women, the Lionesses of my vision/version of humanity, I bait all the time. Yet now celibate disinterested in penetrating their bodies but more over their souls.
A brief aside: I is obscene, the joy I experience with a keyboard beneath my fingers. And were Ava Gardner nude beside me stroking my ha ha; she'd wind up on her posterior pouting for the shove and GET THE F AWAY FROM ME!
My sense of reincarnation/resurrection is that the indwelling God inspires us not to be the Second Coming but something unique to you or me. The problem with religion is that it is based upon ideal people who incarnated God while inhabiting real time. Sorta kinda like let Mikey do it! All are called yet few accept the invitation to be the best potential and most if not all seem stuck in first gear going round and round biting their tails wearing a rut in the carpet.
At one point or another I fell to thinking about the tree Judas hung himself upon. The pieces of silver strewn beneath his lifeless feet gently swaying in the breeze; day dying into nights of oblivion? The Tree of Knowledge. Then the Tree of Life and the shadow-less light of being in the presence. . . .Small wonder I weep at Christmas time knowing that babe is going to die and for the murdered tree covered with tinsel.
In some sense I now think that God is bored with all this stuff about Jesus, Buddha, Moses, Abraham or Muhammad. Of course it will all be impossible until women have equal rights and pay. Acting no longer as receptacles of lust or taking over for mommy the chore of raising little boys into men.
How long did it take me to "grow up?" Seventy Two years?!
Annie, my companion and rescue cat, is all the woman/female I can handle 24/7/365. If it weren't for her, I'd just stop breathing and die blissed out.
As it is should I awaken from my nest rest; I'll keep on keepin on taking photographs, write a poem or two and laugh as I delete everything again including myself.
Unrelated but interesting: I am conservative of the origins of things evolving into what will be will be. Yet as a fabulously experienced journalist I became aware, via the predatory process of elections, on going, that what was generally informative is now masturbatory narrow affirmation of piss ant minds The News Biz is infotainment for consciousness the height, width, breadth and length of a sand flea.
“A saint is a person who practices the keystone human virtue of humility. Humility in the face of wealth and plenty, humility in the face of hatred and violence, humility in the face of strength, humility in the face of your own genius or lack of it, humility in the face of another’s humility, humility in the face of love and beauty, humility in the face of pain and death. Saints are driven to humbling themselves before all splendor and horror of the world because they perceive there to be something divine in it, something pulsing and alive beneath the hard dead surface of material things, something inconceivably greater and purer than they.”
- Tony Hendra - Father Joe, The Man Who Saved My Soul: Taken from the Prologue.
“Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.” -Talmud (attributed)
“Do not look for rest in any pleasure, because you were not created for pleasure you were created for Joy. And if you do not know the difference between pleasure and joy you have not yet begun to live.” - Thomas Merton
121023 21:28 one in all
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
