where we are water

every stream has a major gravity driven direction 

but it also has a viscosity creep,

lateral, vertical, helping hands, so to speak.

emotions seem to have access to the same system,

rational, irrational and beyond belief but happening.

hard to keep a reality lid on all of this,

for the pretend of spoken oratory,

the inner voiced dialogue,

and the emotional source-place happening.

there are discreet rules 

for how this all individually functions.

some of us have great reserve

while others are prone to blather

and worse yet

others outright lie and rebuke any response.

sure, there are narratives of injustices revealed.

there are skewed perspectives in righteous grandeur.

there is common place logic for holding hands,

and hugs of unsaid compassion exchanged.

so much of emotion functions like water.

you'd think that water has an intelligence beyond ours.

I mean millions of years

circulating the planet, over and over,

lifetimes of liquid then vapor 

then clandestine as snow, sleet, hail or rain,

and yet here again

living through it all.

if we just had a method of retention and surrender

besides our flurry of tears

or our tears as a diary, a rebuttal, or consummate response.

our emotional circumstance is multi-complex

when attempts are brought into cognition and account.

emotion has more dimensions than speech can express.

our talk is a flashlight lit in a dark vast room.

yes details get announced

but the emotional architecture of being

is not so clearly represented or defined.

we settle for passive agreement in a parallel sense,

easily seduced by saying "I love you

just the way you are."

maybe that is a form of vocal inoculation against harm.

so we really can't say

but we can all sound

as if that is a language of internal vibrational truth.

we are some much water,

you'd think there is a wisdom there 

for us to have learned from.

perspective told by the sun to water

over millions of years.

and that riddle is dependent for our lives to continue.

what is it that water is saying

that we seem to be incapable of hearing? . . .

what 'miracle'

the demystification of the 'miracle' experience

is to address the phenomenology

in its observational style

as well as its 'happen-to-me' receivership 

in its audience reception style.

that process is underscored

by unsaid but implied

negative affirmational premises,

namely, any sense of the implication of godsend. 

the method of viewing

is as if 'separate from' yet 'happen to'.

the generative use of interpretive mental equivalency

is as a worthy first person account

and also the claim of positive victimhood

to be in isolated receivership

as if not worthy of cause-status possible.

mental-equivalency overstates or outright denies

the emotional components or other  elements in play

as if to be in service to the mental account,

when the first order is emotional in nature,

even though experience will cater to mind account

as an event that 'happened to me'

rather than an emotional occurrence 

with unfolding elements continuing to privately occur,

even though not available or registered to be relevant 

in the experience 

to be an expressed version of the miracle 

as if it just happened out of normalized context,

and then is gone . . .

lifestyle is the medicine

lifestyle is the medicine 

we take in on a daily basis.

the river of being has no events as fluid.

emotions need not be sculpted 

by the conclusions that one's mind generates.

living by results is fear-generative.

and mind-prompted, as overwhelm awareness,

makes for a reality that is outwardly driven,

and mentally interpreted as the narrative then lived.

the creator, the artist, the genius and the master

are all internally present 

before the mind-grip eventually takes charge.

fear, is a method of operative internal drug secretion.

it wants repetition from the internal motherboard

to function towards the clarity of familiarity.

familiar has a certain mind-tone to it

that allows the mind-narrative to continue

in a limited way of our awareness usage.

emotion wants a broader spectrum in play.

mind is time bound 

and comfortable with the past as backdrop reflected.

emotion wants buoyancy and uplift

as embraceable phantasmagoric in its ripeness.

emotion wants the dance 

and not an endless supply of still-shot conclusions

to comment upon ongoingly.

so whose eyes from within have the prominence?

they both function simultaneously

with outer eyes towards certitude 

or inner eyes embracing the uprise of the unexpected.  

every moment of awake awareness 

is presenting in both these ways.

one is the reality of living

while the other is the magic of being.

one is provocative towards demanding

while the other is lyrical towards immerse or fly.

yet both are at the mercy of attention's grasp.

for most of us,

one outwardly demands 

while the other is inwardly shy.

the method of habit feeds on one

to be alert apprehensive and accountable,

while the meal for the other

is inviting, expansive and curiously inviting.

our personal landscape includes

a mental reality trench of occupancy

and an emotional river of ascension.

both are in our ongoing mural of consciousness.

our landscape of awareness includes both

and so we are the ever changing panorama  

of these two primary elements interactive

as our individual self-consciousness.

we all want the providence of emotions

but settle for the dignity of mental equivalence.

so the day fills,

as we toast the ongoing, 

with either the sip to swallow

or the fragrance to inspire.

one to determine,

the other to embrace.

one to carry on,

the other to uplift and ascend.

one itemizing, while the other is spellbound.

the nature of our dualistic thinking 

generally frames the one against the other.

contention is not the means

that confluence easily offers.

so from where within oneself 

does mastery of this come from to proceed?

who of oneself is wisely witness 

to all of this?

go there

and give to what comes a life.

for lifestyle is the medicine,

as the expression of your being

that inwardly aligns, self-ignites 

and outwardly inspires the attention in others . . .

the reign of rain

I am not a fan of pedestrian rain.

rain that causally peruses the sky in its passing

then litters the ground

and has a patchy walkaway means from the scene.

I like rain that is more committed.

rain the coughs before it is in sneezing distance.

rain that thinks it has a reputation to uphold.

rain that looks out to see who is watching,

looks for the getaways of human in response.

but better, I like rain that parades,

that has a notion of being majestic,

rain that expects an audience 

from behind closed doors 

with wide-eyeds at their windows.

although the rain I really love

is the rain of anguish.

the rain that hurls of itself,

that spanks the ground 

as if drumbeats intended,

the rain that has an emotional charge,

that has been vanquished from the sky

and then sullies the ground,

whisperingly bitches in its free-fall.

a rain so anguishing

that it demands to be heard as flood bearing.

a rain that curses the sky 

and the clouds it rode in on.

a rain of sweeping misery in its slush-gathering.

a rain so besmirched of its own accord

that it looks forward towards flooding,

to rumble with oncoming debris

and wants compensation for its delivery,

begging by volume 

for human attention over otherwise disregard.

this is the rain of widespread.

the rain of deluge in open-mouth pouring forth way.

a rain that attempts to tell the backstory of the sky,

that has thunder and lightning as folk heroes. 

a rain that wants to meet its ancestry,

be that at stream, river or rest-assured ocean.

radical but still viscus, 

well-meant nurturing but in a overwhelm way.

it's rain that reigns.

that's my kind of heartfelt and inspiring . . .

witness

witness

witness can never be the wisdom.

the self, in the environment of witness,

can benefit from the expression from within,

while witness is only permitted 

to be in audience there of.

how witness applies

is as a lip-service, 

attempting to speak the truth.

linearity, as language spoken,

can never present the hologram

that is lived in the moment.

if wisdom comes,

it's from a deeper residence

than witness can provide.

all great lawyers know

that truth can be presented in such a way,

where there is not truth to the matter,

but more so, there is a truth 

to be obtained and then secured.

in this way, truth is a lot like freedom.

conceptually, both suffer 

from the same perceptual dis-ease.

freedom and truth live in the moment

but never really as after the fact.

memory is either the shovel or the bouquet 

and time will do the burying . . .

compromise

compromise is about the breakdown-breakthrough, 

about attention span's slippage from details amassing,

from the sheer weight of distractions building 

on the grip intended to be of a singular focus.

compromise is about the unanticipated gathering 

of otherwise-considerations being mentioned

as the expected sustainment beyond what is prepared for.

compromise is about assumptions 

loosing their status of being functionally true,

or from presumptions 

making more of their case to be noticed,

as the profoundly ignored, 

dispelling some of the original beliefs.

compromise is the confrontational 

taking concessionary means towards rewards

while intruding beyond confidence's prepared account.

is compromise really a tug of war, 

expressed as loosing its grip?

or is compromise more like a game of checkers,

where last checker left, is a win?

and the art of compromise 

was it really all about 

just the action in play?

inquisitiveness (haiku) 6/24/20

inquisitiveness 

dining on conflict's discourse

feasts on foolishness 

affection 6/23/20

affection is not a technique

it is a rainfall of joyous weep,

a windswept of an embrace,

an evaporation into a dream.

affection has no stance, 

no permanence to its passing.

it is a blush

as much as a bloom.

both having the presence of embrace as display,

discreet or otherwise.

there is a distortion of distances between.

the share-space fills uniquely. 

emotions may scamper with little feet.

silence may take on an unheard roar.

the deliverance may have mind-fill aftermath.

but its incentive 

originally came from the heart . . .

self-conscious 6/22/20

I am holding on to not being held.

I am surely aware of how unaware I am.

it's crowded is this self-aloneness space within.

I talk over my own self-listening, 

just to get a word in.

what I realize is not even that new to me.

seen it, done it, been there, 

yet seems so unreal.

sometimes I have no response 

to what I have said to myself.

when someones says to me, 

think it over, 

I don't know what that means.

if I had a bad experience, 

do I keep track of the commentary 

or do I just remember the experience?

if I knew how to get to there, 

do I have to want to go and do that?

so what is the point of being self-conscious

if it only generates more of the same?

intelligence 6/21/20

mind states that have no boundaries

are amorphous by description.

no real signs of edginess apparent.

the essence does not declare of itself.

ponder works without a clear cut method.

discernment is considered to be a talent.

appreciation has their hands filled 

with empty faith directing.

thoughts come and go

by this very means.

meaning attempts to nail down these vagaries,

one nebulous at a time.

and we claim intelligence

as our home base of operations . . .