tolerance

The peace I know upon awakening within the cyclonic change, surfing rogue waves, somewhat akin to awakening before execution at dawn is: Attributable to my merciless engagement with vanity, my own.

Stripping my sense of self naked to enter a new land, indicated by intuition born four years ago. The actual sight of which, myself naked, is to me merely a road map of experience; but otherwise the body of a boy become an old man laughing at him self.

Less able, or willing, to conceptualize The Author of All Things as either male or female, but something, utterly, else. By whom all are called to be lovers of life. . . .For all living. Of the few who answer, some remain more notable than others; annotated by their martyrdom for inconvenience to the prevailing ideals; thereafter become idols for a few who remain the general average mass. My sense here is that both love and greed are treated as cults; blindly followed without thought or regard to the consequences. With the greater force and power demonstrated for the choice of greed. For which an enormous number of people are martyred to ‘prove’ the ‘truth’.

My version/vision of Jesus is a balanced person of equal energy within both the feminine and masculine, incorporating a balanced use of all sensing functions: thought, feeling, intuition and sense . . . being inherently both lion and lamb. My inconvenient, even to myself, concept is resulting broadcast over a wider population defined differently as by their professions, yet moved by the same inspiration of kindness and generosity.

I seek no consistency save for God as experienced daily. My sole ambition is that you become aware of your relationship in equal measure defined by you.

Returning to my original intention: ‘the peace I know.’ I am beset with poverty; yet book poor. Then humiliated to realize that as a child I asked God to be real to me. And within all the books I have or have read, there is most nothing but talk about, but not the experience I have surrendered/submitted to . . . happily so. Obviously grace implies no exclusivity nor guarantee of oblivion. I will move forward horn of my bulwarks against all former denial that grace can touch me in my child like innocence. With faith that hitherto has brought me to fearless peace.

In these closing hours in Las Cruces there is a immutable sadness. While I thought of the books given away and those retained, my sadness was for my misconception of what poetry is. Yet ever more so for the friends I leave behind. There being nothing better than being face-to-face . . . I have life for now knowing it will end sooner or later; as with all loves there is a beginning middle and end. Who loves us is unending and in that conviction I rest as person or dust.

"In hatred as in love, we grow like the thing we brood upon. 

What we loathe, we graft into our very soul."- Mary 

Renault

130618 01:58 yes Virginia

Yes Virginia—or John—or whatever your name is, absolute good exists by whatever name applied. Personal, specific, knowable and wonderful . . . and knowable if only your know yourself . . . exactly and more than 1 Corinthians 13.

In converse with Pam last evening I confessed this process of moving towards her is killing me. Not certain I implied or stated that death seemed too often a quick release. But then Annie would drawn near and rub her head against my leg and I knew if nothing else I must move on. I love her nearly as much as Pam, M, and the Interlocutor; she is as much me as she.

I am candid to the point of being obnoxious and will let stand what preceded this entry. The point I would make is not convenient to what I understand as literary convention: to edit oneself into the simplest and most elegant form for clarity.

My convention is operable for me and continues to prove a better methodology than anything I have yet discovered to supplant it. In my alteration between this writing and collecting quotes, especially on Wikiquote, I am clubbed senseless to discover that the real issue behind my current distress is: Not that I will loose those mementoes I collected in manic enthusiasm, but that I have not only, not read them, but more tellingly would never read them in this or any lifetime were I to have ten thousand lives. This is humiliating to me for I advocate that you read instead of seeking truth though all other metaphors for it; truth that is.

I am eclectic in the extreme drawing information from a vast array of sources. And, to myself, able to be moved towards greater truths via the virus of an idea — bored with apology or exposition — in myself or the author to reconcile the idea within the context of current culture.

Truth is where you find it and must be tested as something you are willing to die for; proving nothing but your sincerity.

08:52

Bobbing mid-way upon the face / or back / or atop it / rouge wave / we two cling to one another for survival colliding mid-sea stunned.

The shelter I have inhabited for the past seven years is a maze of open cardboard boxes. The only one sealed and ready to go is Annie’s more-or-less permanent sleeping place unless otherwise in bed with me until I go; a reminder that regardless of consequence she will accompany me. Pam loves all animals, especially cats, and this old Tom.

Be well

130617 MDT 01:44 tolerance

© 2013 by Jack Spratt—All Rights Reserved