Assessing the situation

Like a man that has fallen into quicksand, one struggles to find salvation of any sort. Reaching  for tree limbs but only finding twigs. Desperation breeds anxiety of certain demise, for certain he is, that the end is near.  Inhaling for possibly the last time an echo resounds from a memory past…

Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people. The abolition of religion as the illusory happiness of the people is the demand for their real happiness. To call on them to give up their illusions about their condition is to call on them to give up a condition that requires illusions. The criticism of religion is, therefore, in embryo, the criticism of that vale of tears of which religion is the halo.  Karl Marx

 Had his salvation become his damnation? Afflicted with neurosis by popular culture the downward spiral of sanity had bred complacency, and irrational mental monotony.  Out of habit he looked up, even with the realization nothing was to happen. Solidarity motivated a glance around, which happened to breed its own form of panic, insecurity. Anxiety of an unknown situation narrows the perspective and defines one’s own resources as inadequate.

Presented with the choice of evolution, which path does one take?

From the sun to Jupiter, with Saturn in wane .

Adame Edere

I intend on having no intent. I have taken an action of inaction.  I wish to achieve absolutely nothing.

This is my mantra, my vehicle from which I surf the event horizon of my environment, and worse, my psyche.  An elaborate dance to find the center of self which is dictated by the rhythm of perception.  Harmony is the tattoo upon my flesh as an effort at physical and mental discipline. A discipline which is necessary for the passage through the gate named “evolution”, a gate shaped by my persona and is made up of a mirror that reflects the soul. The audacity of which is humbling, for its revelation is nothing new, just a mocking reminder of who I used to be. Aspirations simply to become, not essentially more, but something other than the chaos which has been forged by archetypes not of my choosing. 

As a child I had a habit of staring at the sky in wonderment, during adolescence the journey inward began.  Marveled by epiphanies and the similarities to the surrounding world, an addiction began. The constant need for association and definition by the position for which life has decided to dictate. Which initiated the neurosis of staring backwards, collecting ghosts as the years went past. Haunted by events and people who dared touch the object which has been the infatuation for too long. In time, lulled by the song of a demon named control, scars, infection, and open wounds started to form. Justified by ignorance, those places were frozen, not for the purpose of healing, just to stop the process. An effort to stymie the desecration of a microcosm. Holy this ice planet was called and stoicism was its personification, and its prison.

 The path between mercury and the sun, with earth eclipsed by the moon. The journey begins with a book named logos and a robe called stasis.

Coming to peace

 “One is not to be judged by what they have, but by what they do.”  A person’s character is not based upon physical attributes and material possessions, but by the decisions they have made in certain situations. Their actions or inactions are the key to the grade of their integrity.

  Not an easy thing to do, to forego the ego and do what is right. Especially involving highly personal situations involving family, where the choices permitted are those of either feeding the ego or scarring it. Where does the two headed serpent strike? What path can one take? On one head of the serpent lies the idea of prosperity of self, the other extreme is sacrifice for others.  Yet both heads are aimed at one’s heart, no matter the path chosen, the good of the self or the good of the family, the heart is subject to the poison of the event. Who is to be the judge of this, whom does one answer to and seek guidance from?

To the east I stand, a angel slashes me with a sword across my chest,

To the north I stand, a gnome comes up and hits me on the head with his staff,

To the west I stand, a sylph pours a bucket of arctic water over me,

To the south I stand, a salamander bites me on the foot which then starts to enter necrosis,

Having opened the circle I sit and contemplate the wisdom of the elements, after a period of time I slither around the circle and shed the scarred vehicle from which life has wrecked.

Balance is the act of walking the tight rope, the grounding rock of discipline,  the foundation of growth.

Balance breaks the circle of logic which is neurosis, stills the hand of obsession, and directs the light not from above, but from within.

To the east I stand,  a sunrise brings a wind of promise

To the north I stand, a sapling grows upon the ground

To the west I stand, a sunset shimmers upon an ocean

To the south I stand, a fire smolders upon a cold evening

 While communing with the higher genius, I set my tom tom for a path from mars to Jupiter in preparation for my journey through the abyss. 

Doubt creeps in

Time is the shepherd of doubt, eroding away the confidence of one’s directive. Persistence has been put to the wayside in place of frustration and suspicion.  Doubt has placed a hand in front of the vision and chained inspiration to the tail of a phoenix, to be reborn only after a period of trial. How easily the plight has been forgotten. Faith takes different directions not necessarily constructive. Paths are blurred, signs are forgotten or deemed irrelevant, and how easily the shepherd has distilled the aspect acidic.  

 Even after all this the shepherd has been thwarted by mere intent, once put into motion develops a life of its own. Untended it becomes wild and unpredictable but still thrives, flourishes, and prospers. Unfortunate in its new state for its nature has become wild and unpredictable.  No longer visible, barely thought upon, the symbiosis broken. It’s company missed but not celebrated, for that is the power the shepherd has, to numb wounds and persuade the scars. But still the command from one’s own mouth in now the air it breathes, the desire which was put into action is now its own.

No matter how long the shepherd is at work, it has no power where this wild thing grows.

Saturn in the shadow of Gemini, Taurus has left the warmth of Aries. Minerva has become a crack whore with Chronos as her dealer.

And on the next day Poseidon arrives with a pressure washer to cleanse the world, after which he finds a jewel, kisses it and throws it to the heavens where it becomes a star.