Wednesday, November 21, 2012

I want to know life intimately. I want to walk the ragged edges of the sensuous dance that gives life. I am no longer interested in the answers, although i catch myself grasping for them from time to time. There is a curiosity in the unknowing that the fear can't touch. It a deathly hand grappling to take you from the edge of the cliff that one finds themselves on. Yet the cliff is the imprisonment. Freedom is found in one's releasing from it's embrace. There is no safety in the answers, despite the story our minds attempt to feed our security. There also is no security, despite the structures we attempt to erect to save ourselves. The structures are only new form to what was formless. The closer i move to them, the quicker they evaporate. There is meaning in the moments between. The meaning feeds the still moment before coming to it's death at an unknowable time. The meaning too can be an imprisonment, if you allow it to shape you and cling to it when it is attempting to find release. Behind it lies the timelessness, the dark space of the great void. The space from which we came and from which we will arise again. Although the disintegration of the meaning feels like suicide, the suicide belongs to the ego, not the voice of the soul. The soul does not seek safety in structures but instead seeks to liberate itself to it's own expression, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant in the greater realm of things. I imagine it is the point of liberation the suicide longs for, unaware that they can find it in life. It is life breathing into itself within the very shadow of death.

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