The Wilderness November 2019 We’re learning emotional survival skills here, out in the wilderness. Your best behavior is useless now. Your goody-two-shoes, I got this, stiff upper lip, staunch Democrat or Republican, nighty-night, Oh, I’m fine, best behavior bullshit doesn’t fly here. Incandescent like that flame you’ve been holding, keeping from going out, tending the fire, burning the midnight oil and so tired. Now, it’s out. But, don’t cry. Because you, you’re on. Here in the wilderness we speak trees. We build bonfires out of that flame. We teleport from one state to the next without protection, without the safety devices in place. Here, we let it all hang out. We eat it raw with the juice dripping, thighs already greasy. It’s too late for napkins. Here, we’re way out beyond the perimeter. Way, way out. The air is rarified like deep space, like pure oxygen. Nothing stains us. There’s no stopping us now. The center cannot hold, the old ways do not apply. No controlling the volume on the dial. No putting a cap on it. Here, we consider the turbulence fun. Here, we smoke cigarettes when we pray. And laughter…is straight up currency. At the edge of the world, we climb the mountain. It gets harder the higher we go but the views are better. No lingering, flag-planting, or back slapping at the top, only the descent... There are valleys yet to explore, limestone caves, too. Oceans await our amphibious wisdom. In the deep waters we swim, wrapped in seaweed, nothing to get stuck on. Here in the dark, we touch the depths and the mud sucks… Everything sucks, but we are long past resisting that discomfort. We breathe in the cosmic kiss, and eat pain for breakfast full tongue, full throat, gullet and stomach, intestines on through. Digested. Digest it. Until there is only sensation left. Without meaning, without stories — supplies of energy moving through the pieces of what we once considered a self. Knitting a new network of synapses as something comes to life, The Resurrection is sweet. Yes, we are wracked. We are had. We are chewed up and spit out over and over again here. But, there is something like dancing in the writhing. And there is something like ecstasy in the agony. There is something like clarity here where there was once confusion. And though it may hurt, it’s worth it. There is no other way. This training is not for everyone. You enlisted long ago before there was such a thing as time. Be glad. Rejoice! If you ever wanted out, this is the key, the map, and the journey home. Who else will walk it for you? Now, that laughter isn’t mine. And those tears, they could fill a river. Might as well… What a curiosity! The heaving is the same in either case. The source, no longer relevant. Your pain is not so precious as you think. Make an offering of it. We accept that as currency, too. Now the emotions are really more like the weather, And we are no longer touching the mountain top because we are the mountain. And the water. Now, we are the sensation of wetness even as we are beyond it. That non dual, non dual…
POEM: The Wilderness
POEM: The Wilderness
POEM: The Wilderness
The Wilderness November 2019 We’re learning emotional survival skills here, out in the wilderness. Your best behavior is useless now. Your goody-two-shoes, I got this, stiff upper lip, staunch Democrat or Republican, nighty-night, Oh, I’m fine, best behavior bullshit doesn’t fly here. Incandescent like that flame you’ve been holding, keeping from going out, tending the fire, burning the midnight oil and so tired. Now, it’s out. But, don’t cry. Because you, you’re on. Here in the wilderness we speak trees. We build bonfires out of that flame. We teleport from one state to the next without protection, without the safety devices in place. Here, we let it all hang out. We eat it raw with the juice dripping, thighs already greasy. It’s too late for napkins. Here, we’re way out beyond the perimeter. Way, way out. The air is rarified like deep space, like pure oxygen. Nothing stains us. There’s no stopping us now. The center cannot hold, the old ways do not apply. No controlling the volume on the dial. No putting a cap on it. Here, we consider the turbulence fun. Here, we smoke cigarettes when we pray. And laughter…is straight up currency. At the edge of the world, we climb the mountain. It gets harder the higher we go but the views are better. No lingering, flag-planting, or back slapping at the top, only the descent... There are valleys yet to explore, limestone caves, too. Oceans await our amphibious wisdom. In the deep waters we swim, wrapped in seaweed, nothing to get stuck on. Here in the dark, we touch the depths and the mud sucks… Everything sucks, but we are long past resisting that discomfort. We breathe in the cosmic kiss, and eat pain for breakfast full tongue, full throat, gullet and stomach, intestines on through. Digested. Digest it. Until there is only sensation left. Without meaning, without stories — supplies of energy moving through the pieces of what we once considered a self. Knitting a new network of synapses as something comes to life, The Resurrection is sweet. Yes, we are wracked. We are had. We are chewed up and spit out over and over again here. But, there is something like dancing in the writhing. And there is something like ecstasy in the agony. There is something like clarity here where there was once confusion. And though it may hurt, it’s worth it. There is no other way. This training is not for everyone. You enlisted long ago before there was such a thing as time. Be glad. Rejoice! If you ever wanted out, this is the key, the map, and the journey home. Who else will walk it for you? Now, that laughter isn’t mine. And those tears, they could fill a river. Might as well… What a curiosity! The heaving is the same in either case. The source, no longer relevant. Your pain is not so precious as you think. Make an offering of it. We accept that as currency, too. Now the emotions are really more like the weather, And we are no longer touching the mountain top because we are the mountain. And the water. Now, we are the sensation of wetness even as we are beyond it. That non dual, non dual…