#tangibility
#
*The finest meaning of 'Wholeness'..
Is shown most fully within the intertwining
in to the pivotally and most necessary
healing of both body and mind..
In that
the perfect expression of Spirit here on Earth
can only happen through the physical--
You "feel" the Receptives and/or the Urgings
from deep within you (your flesh wrapped spirit),
That are only brought out into the light of day (made known)
the moment your very tangible fingers touch the keyboard..
Or up close..
the tangibly-heard sound your very voice-tones,
Created by your so very tangible vocal cords-- made unique
by how deeply infused your spirit is into that
beautiful mind and body of yours..
By your ever-renewed
and continual choice to heal.
Within that beautiful union, the Sensings and Respondings
of the body bring impulses into the spirit..
touching deeper, the Core--
The "Image" of Perfect, Absolute Being
placed deeply into each and every one of us..
by the very nature of Love's Ache--
Residing within the center of this Universe..
(and all other Universes).. both known..
and those also yet to be..
..An Image placed, as to be a Plumb-line,
and also a Never-ending Cinematic placement of the View
onto (and within) the inner-wall linings
of both mind and spirit..
..Seen in greater and greater "less dimly-lit" degrees,
based solely on how far we commit ourselves along,
and in to, the healing process.
In its finest form, through healing,
the things we take in.. through feeling;
and then express back out..
from both mind, and body's untethered Unfolding,
..Becomes closer and closer
to the very Expression of God's own heart,
..Therefore smashing through, and gorgeously undoing
the ever- quenching.. ever-diluting nature of Subjectivity, itself.
Hmm..
The "taking in" and then The Tremblings, of your body's
unavoidable responses are the very thing most 'maverick loners'
like me need most from another in this world,
if we are to continue on in our mission with any kind of strength..
(along with its much desperately-needed resolve).
If, within the "taking in" process.. the beautifully feeling
Receivers such as yourself, were to be overcome
to the point of release~ all alone.. on the edge of your bed..
isn't that a very understandable and nearly unavoidable
and also so very very tangible part of the process also..
--In itself
above and outside of all human (and Heavenly) judgement?
Carry on, sweet Angel..
and so gorgeously continue to be who you are.
Those that can see.. see (and feel) most clearly.*
I see you.
#
Aug 12, 2023
Aug 12, 2023 at 8:19 PM UTC
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*Would that I could gather your houses into my hand,
and like a sower scatter them in forest and meadow.
Would the valleys were your streets,
and the green paths your alleys,
that you might seek one another through vineyards,
and come with the fragrance of the earth in your garments.
But these things are not yet to be.
In their fear your forefathers gathered you too near together.
And that fear shall endure a little longer.
A little longer shall your city walls separate your hearths
from your fields.
And tell me, people of OrphaIese, what have you in these houses?
And what is it you guard with fastened doors?
Have you peace, the quiet urge that reveals your power?
Have you remembrances..
the glimmering arches that span the summits of the mind?
Have you beauty, that leads the heart from things
fashioned of wood and stone to the holy mountain?
Tell me, have you these in your houses?
Or have you only comfort, and the lust for comfort,
that stealthy thing that enters the house a guest,
..and then becomes a host and then a master?
Ay, and it becomes a tamer,
and with hook and scourge makes puppets of your larger desires.
Though its hands are silken, its heart is of iron.
It lulls you to sleep
only to stand by your bed and jeer at the dignity of the flesh.
It makes mock of your sound senses,
and lays them in thistledown like fragile vessels.
Verily the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul,
and then walks grinning in the funeral.
But you, children of space, you restless in rest,
you shall not be trapped nor tamed.
Your house shall be not an anchor but a mast.
It shall not be a glistening film that covers a wound,
but an eyelid that guards the eye.
You shall not fold your wings that you may pass through doors,
nor bend your heads that they strike not against a ceiling,
nor fear to breathe lest walls should crack and fall down.
You shall not dwell in tombs made by the dead for the living.
And though of magnificence and splendor,
your house shall not hold your secret nor shelter your longing.
For that which is boundless in you
abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist,
and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night.*
~ Khalil Gibran
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Dec 19, 2021
Dec 19, 2021 at 7:17 PM UTC
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*In Love, I watered it
With care.. I adored it;
This ten.. by ten, patch..
just outside, the wire--
at the edge of my fence-line,
daily I gave without, tire
There's a country-side
of wild prairiegrass
that lives.. and thrives..
just beyond my grasp
This grass.. it don't need me
in order to survive..
And all this time
I thought that I was
keeping it alive
Carefully-planted tufts--
windblown, as I sleep
uproot from this patch
that I prayed
the lord would keep..
And on some distant, hill
across these natural
waves, of grain
Uprooted.. becomes, naturally
rooted, again--
Forever, naturally-watered
by a Forever-natural, rain
Maybe, now
I can finally leave
a world that has
never, truly needed me
Why do I still
so much, believe?*
I believe....
I believe.#
Nov 26, 2021
Nov 26, 2021 at 12:00 AM UTC