Pure awakening along with the array of variants until complete illusion, is a canvas of magical creation. The Truth that we cherish, creation within nature’s axioms, is design in contrast to pure energy. If the Devil is a liar, is God then the preferred brand of illusionist upon the void? From ‘Let there be light’ to ‘Let the Spirit and the Bride, come!’ how much of our concept is fit for awakening?
In the dying, in reports of war and desecration of nature, in rumors of abuse, and even the sacrifice of innocent ones, how much do we write off as a lie, or conceal in the corners of a preferred creative model? The truth that we cherish, does it prefer we fight for it, fight to change it, or simply to awaken from it? Do we allow our empathy to embroil us in the lives of others? Or do we lead them valiantly, as a substitute piper-pied perhaps, off the page or canvas of this story where the details of these situations are familiar to us all?
The Churches offer a crucified human as a doorway to our own hope. The Temples of the East show us a person sitting in silent contemplation. Three monkeys speak, hear and see no evil, also some say. The giraffe views above the fray. The zebra dances together a visible white noise. The hippos hide their secrets in farts and mud. The rhinos wait to reclaim old freedoms. The elephants are kept like pets for tourists to ride, as they still remember something the rest have forgotten.
In the middle path, oil and water merge with salt and spice to brighten the noodles of apathy. Do we work for the awakening of others, even when the path is obstructed by some who prefer the profit of only selective angles of illumination? Circling the square, surrendering the will to compassion, where does the sword of Michael’s justice meet the eye of Buddha’s clarity within our own stories?
Proud victory, crowds and adoration, money in the account, clicks and hits, likes and subscribes, all slumber on somewhere in the field of lights and shadows. The creation of life, the sculptures of an infinite moment, from a machine of inevitability out to the void of the essential. The truth is perhaps mercifully always kept just beyond reach. Then, there’s no point, by agreement perhaps. In the mix, how clean can we emerge together from the wash?
Like children, even our own minds go on squabbling still. For how much longer, perhaps we will be grateful for it yet?
Teddy Swims – God Went Crazy
Yello – Of Course I’m Lying
DJ Shadow – Midnight In A Perfect World
Tristan James Johns 