Desperation for some sort of communication. I feel so far away from everything. I know this desperate demon that is running the show while I'm looking out the window at something somewhere else. The walls and all the reason fall down and all that remains is a revelation of the dark primal jungle of the mind, where nothing really makes sense beyond whatever happens at that instant, and all decisions are the child of reflex and instinct. Should I be looking at myself? Would I be turned into a flower if I stared at my reflection like Echo's greatest desire? I'm looking outside, through the amber eyes of a beast that hungers, a beast whose thirst is never slaked. He could drink and drink forever never knowing where he's going, never thinking what he's drinking, never finding what he's hunting.
Sometimes it seems we are drifting on the sea, afloat on the rafts that are our consciousness, waiting to come into contact with someone else after being marooned for so long. I dance like so many on the puppet strings of an imaginary master, a phantom puppeteer, so close the to the basic source emotion that lies at the heart of all emotions in this ocean. Fear. And this problem doesn't get solved because I attack like so many, with my mind and not with my soul. The mind, the engine, the problem solver, the problem maker, the chattering limb that seeks to take over the whole body. But what is a car that simply drives with no one steering it? Reckless and dangerous, to itself and to everyone.
Most of us are beggars, sitting on a box begging, searching, reaching out for someone to help us find something valuable. But we have never looked inside the box we are sitting on. If we did, we might find that it was full of treasure. Maybe if I just reach deep down within myself far enough, and let the freeflowing madness overcome me, if I let go of all control, of all direction, of all projection, of all hope and fear, tumbling down the rabbit hole, everything will be as it is supposed to be.
Sometimes it seems we are drifting on the sea, afloat on the rafts that are our consciousness, waiting to come into contact with someone else after being marooned for so long. I dance like so many on the puppet strings of an imaginary master, a phantom puppeteer, so close the to the basic source emotion that lies at the heart of all emotions in this ocean. Fear. And this problem doesn't get solved because I attack like so many, with my mind and not with my soul. The mind, the engine, the problem solver, the problem maker, the chattering limb that seeks to take over the whole body. But what is a car that simply drives with no one steering it? Reckless and dangerous, to itself and to everyone.
Most of us are beggars, sitting on a box begging, searching, reaching out for someone to help us find something valuable. But we have never looked inside the box we are sitting on. If we did, we might find that it was full of treasure. Maybe if I just reach deep down within myself far enough, and let the freeflowing madness overcome me, if I let go of all control, of all direction, of all projection, of all hope and fear, tumbling down the rabbit hole, everything will be as it is supposed to be.
holy_mountain:
You're back! Yeah I look so happy in my pic because I discovered the lost magical wond haha.
kundalini:
Seeking is much the same as forcing energy out. There is an outflow of awareness that inhibits the inflow of anything meaningful. The seeker always feels that emptiness until he frees his mind from the want and allows the rest of reality to flow into him unimpeded...