I recognize myself outside of my self and every time this happens it feels like the first time, again. Rising Phoenix, courage and tenacity redefined daily– in you I see my curiosity: how elegant is your jaté, as you dance dawn across the silken twilight legacy of the omniscient harvest moon.
I recognize myself out of myself and every time my breath escapes me: in his eyes my spark sees her reflection; the orb of glowing noon dancing on the Willamette river; spitfire light wild and free playing trapeze with the wind and elliptical slip and swoon, graceful as the dawn of time, floating a simple song, writing its story as it makes its way.
Every time that I see myself clearly is recognizance, is the first time again: if I am not growing, I must be dead. Prism and white light, with your true and pure dynamism I see myself in you, through you. We share a what. We share the crystalline flakes of the purest substance of the what, it’s the mechanism through which our soul breathes. I was wondering if all humans are born with the same kernel of what. I think perhaps this is not the case.
The brain stem in stage four of sleep shoots off random neurons. Stage four of sleep must be achieved for the shooting spark of momentary life in the discharge of ideas because the body is in a state of temporary paralysis. I exist a millions of time I will never recall in life. What I am able to recall upon waking are often those firing that my mind makes psychological sense of. I Intuit that I can recall a memory of my dream in these cases because they are archetypal. They are recognized and registered, a reiteration in cloaked in mystery shrouded in the truth of recognizance without footprint, without real life experience rooted in the recognition.
And so i think it goes that souls and people who populate this earth and disappear as soon as they appear, a lifetime measured in breaths. Some people here contain secrets. They have souls that see the connections and intensities, the relationship and creativity, the mystery the awe the splendor the invisible the curvature the translucent multi-stratified layers and their consciousness gives re-creates the world again through their gaze, adding another dimension or 3 to a hologram surface. They recognize the structure and function of the smoke and mirrors and see through it to the blueprint behind the opaque wall. They recognize what they have yet to experience. They acknowledge the duality of opposing forces and see the people oscillating between the polar binaries like flint lit sparks from metal charged with heartbeats traveling according to the push and pull of opposing magnets. Feeling free and blind to the forces, un observable for omnipresent and powerful, rearranging the possibilities of cue balls allowing the cogs to feel free.
Some people see their place inside of the paradox and become the exception. To do so, one must surrender ones will to their predetermined destiny towards transformation and transmutation. The sensation of power in the feeling of free will is lost. But the ego no longer needs fuel. Power is food for the ego. Accepting ones moment of a life and the dual nature of the great divine orchestra performs a paradox in it of itself: the sacrifice of free will as a hole in the whole, one in a composite one, a rhizome in the universal flowering, liberates one beyond the capacity of those who believe they are free according to their will.
5 am. Still can’t sleep. really, really really hungry. store not open. can’t sleep. ill keep trying. this helped.