We
cannot name what is alive in its aliveness.
We
can only name its symbology and speak
to
a coded memory from within ourselves
as
if it were a rememberance, in passing.
This
is, as observation would have it,
the
slowest way to becoming
what is at the source of it
as
its aliveness presence.
Self-consciousness
then becomes
the
shadow drug for awareness of this kind.
Self-consciousness
asks from us and assumes of us
a
need to take excess cognitive baggage along.
And
by excess bagged I mean a mental stayed-ness
to
our sense of being as so self familiar,
that
there is an experience style within us
seeking
comparatives only,
as
something that is called up
but
does not necessarily call out authentically
our
spirit, beyond the boundaries
of
seated familiar anecdotal ease.
Experience
by this means, is so results' oriented.
And
we, nonchalantly accept it, as in return.
For
us, doing believing in these instances,
is
a human form of our mind’s false advertising.
A
sense of short-depth memory,
not
short term memory,
takes
hold of our sensing
and
by the intricate workings
of
anticipation and expectation weaving together,
our
minds determines what aliveness is
as
to what is happening and renders it
into
a rendition or phenomenological set
of
poignant moments freeze framed
rather
than the true streaming of spirit
pouring
through the otherwise veil of self.
This
aliveness lives in our interior world,
deep
within us,
though
previously un-sensed and uncensored.
When
it comes forth and by whatever means,
surrender
to it and through it.
Give
up the ghost of self as projected
and
conduit to it all.
We
are not here for living for the story
but
for being the stream,
that
stream of being,
the
fountaining of spirit,
the
pouring of this self-love, then shared.
So
when this aliveness is happening
play
into it fully,
as
an ‘outing of spirit’, that matters . . .
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