There are forces within us that are like clothes in the closet within us, collecting dust if unused. These forces have layers of experience and discovery to them. They mimic the layers of our self-discoveries. Power furls from the flesh of the sweaty-meaning, power ignites by the firmament of prose and the ecclesiastical chants of the choir in robes. Not of religion but of vigilance in understanding the connection between the people and their convictions. Steady yourself next to a stream and listen, water as liquid, water as sound, water is sacred, water yourself in the choir and the prose, chant with the birds, wear their feathers, sing boldly. Breathe with the wind as the choir shifts to the trees, every leaf clapping in ecstasy. Understand nothing, experience the wealth of recognition, the light that was there is ignited in here. Depend on no one, no experience, no wishes, to call unto yourself the absolute, unburdened by joy, by longing or needs, sense the faint whispers of heaven as you dance in that skimpy skirt you bought at Ross. Ha ha ha~!! Nothing is sacred, therefore ALL is sacred, unburdened by the sublime.
No comments:
Post a Comment