I have been having some strong experiences lately. I got here, wanting to make a bunch of posts, then I was hit by an overwhelming fatigue, like all my systems were shutting down. I took a nap, had a couple cups of coffee and lit a cigar, and I feel better. But I can’t do those posts today.
I am not on entirely fictitious or unstable ground in feeling that I have some interesting contributions to make. Everything that has ever needed saying has been said. Nothing I will or could say is lacking in the human written record.
But truth, and truths, cycle. They are known, and then forgotten. And then remembered. And every recollection, in every time, is unique in its own way. Perhaps it needs saying in a slightly new way. It is never a truly new message, but it is new TO US. And we need our own language to internalize and learn them. Adding that language is what I try to do. In my own way, I like to think of myself as a sort of ideational artist. My goal is to paint pictures with words, but not pictures which consist in perfect renderings of reality. That is the job of science. My aim is rendering them subjectively, in offering reality as transmuted within my own consciousness, in the hope that they spark something within the reader.
I feel strong flows within myself often. My habit of Kum Nye has taught me to allow these flows. I don’t know where they come from, or where they are going. And it is hard living in them. It is light and color and darkness and disease. Everything.
Most of the time they feel like pressure on me. They push on me, no doubt because I have not yet learned how to allow them fully, by tempering my fear, and embracing them.
But I am going to say this, today: within them are small sparks that are beautiful. And it seems obvious to me that my job is to see them, feel them as long as I can, and to slowly fan them into something larger.
That’s all I can say today. I may do politics later, but nothing more.