This is what my hands look like, when I look at them when dreaming (asleep)… Straight up!
PEACE
![U N S P O K E N“Love cannot be demanded. If it comes your way, be thankful; if it does not come, wait. Even in your waiting there should be no complaint, because you don’t have any right. Love is nobody’s right, no constitution can give you the right of love […]One of America’s most famous authors, Dale Carnegie, writes that every husband has to tell his wife at least three times a day, “I l
ove you, darling.” Are you insane? But he means it, and it works; and many people, millions of people, are practicing Dale Carnegie followers. “When you come home, bring ice cream, flowers, roses, to show that you love” — as if love needs to be shown, proved materially, pragmatically, linguistically; every now and then uttered again and again so nobody forgets it. If you don’t tell your wife for a few days that “I love you” she will count how many days have passed, and she will become more and more suspicious that this man must be saying it to somebody else, because her quota is being cut. Love is a quantity. If he is not bringing ice cream anymore, ice cream must be going somewhere else, and this cannot be tolerated.We have created a society which believes only in doings, while the spiritual part of our being remains starved — because it needs something which is not done but happens. Not that you manage to say “I love you” but that suddenly you find yourself saying that you love. You are surprised yourself at what you are saying. You are not rehearsing it in your mind first and then repeating it, no; it is spontaneous.And in fact, the real moments of love remain unspoken. When you are really feeling love, that very feeling creates around you a certain radiance that says everything that you cannot say, that can never be said.”— OSHO, The Osho Upanishad, Chapter #28About Osho: — http://on.fb.me/sUA9QAIntroduction to the teachings of Osho: canOsho albums: — http://on.fb.me/jIVnRbthis page: — http://on.fb.me/O3ZxriOSHONever BornNever DiedOnly Visited thisPlanet Earth betweenDecember 11 1931 ― January 19 1990](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m8f3jzBPxu1r24s6eo1_500.jpg)
U N S P O K E N
“Love cannot be demanded. If it comes your way, be thankful; if it does not come, wait. Even in your waiting there should be no complaint, because you don’t have any right. Love is nobody’s right, no constitution can give you the right of love […]
One of America’s most famous authors, Dale Carnegie, writes that every husband has to tell his wife at least three times a day, “I l
We have created a society which believes only in doings, while the spiritual part of our being remains starved — because it needs something which is not done but happens. Not that you manage to say “I love you” but that suddenly you find yourself saying that you love. You are surprised yourself at what you are saying. You are not rehearsing it in your mind first and then repeating it, no; it is spontaneous.
And in fact, the real moments of love remain unspoken. When you are really feeling love, that very feeling creates around you a certain radiance that says everything that you cannot say, that can never be said.”
— OSHO, The Osho Upanishad, Chapter #28
About Osho: — http://on.fb.me/sUA9QA
Introduction to the teachings of Osho: can
Osho albums: — http://on.fb.me/jIVnRb
this page: — http://on.fb.me/O3Zxri
OSHO
Never Born
Never Died
Only Visited this
Planet Earth between
December 11 1931 ― January 19 1990
Understand That This Is a Dream
Real as a dream
What shall I do with this great opportunity to fly?
What is the interpretation of this planet, this moon?
if I can dream that I dream / and dream anything dreamable / can I dream
I am awake / and why do that?
When I dream in a dream that I wake / up what
happens when I try to move?
I dream that I move
and the effort moves and moves
till I move / and my arm hurts
Then I wake up / dismayed / I was dreaming / I was waking
when I was dreaming still / just now.
and try to remember next time in dreams
that I am in dreaming.
And dream anything I want when I’m awaken.
When I’m in awakeness what do I desire?
I desire to fulfill my emotional belly.
My whole body my heart in my fingertops thrill with some old fulfillments.
Pages of celestial rhymes burning fire-words
unconsumable but disappear.
Arcane parchments my own and the universe the answer.
Belly to Belly and knee to knee.
The hot spurt of my body to thee and thee
old boy / dreamy Earl / you Prince of Paterson / now king of me / lost
CLICK LINK ABOVE TO FULL POEM… CLICK LINK IN PICTURE TO MUSIC.
Or don’t ;)
PEACE
A Dream Within A Dream
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
Edgar Allan Poe
Unusual preface and introduction of an unknown book by anon author. Apparently to be finished end 2012 and possibly never to be read!~… enjoy.
PREFACE
‘Don’t pinch me awake if this is a dream. One more moment paints another eternity, in soul.’
Honduras
“NORTH!” The great shaman, rainbow heart flowing over the table, through feline eyes directed to an ancient friend before her. “You are the reason I journeyed here”
I froze, bowed, opened…
Eighteen years before this wind, this day, I remembered we would meet again. She rode with me along the slow wide turns sweeping the hours of this life aside, hiding her face, ducking ahead of my vision each new corner I plunged toward.
“NORTH!”
Plucking one white candle from her snakeskin hand, eyes closed, the great shaman smiled warmly at my choice. Kaleidoscopic eyes spun our souls together again. I let go of this world. We danced. She led.
“NORTH!”
“But it is not me you seek. You called me back only to remind you… There is another. Prepare. Follow your north great one.
Your spirit path. Have patience! Strength! Trust! You are safe.
Walk! It is chosen.”
“NORTH!”
The great shaman spun and twisted golden threads through our fractal being as she spoke her message through my universe.
That night a hundred extra terrestrial craft danced their colourful tribute before us seven souls. All but I, bewildered. My wind was calm. I knew.
North.
INTRODUCTION
Is this what prison is like then?
Perched on the side of an old creaky bed, draped in a couple of random, shabby duvets, the concrete floor is most mesmerising in it’s cold grey speckled skin. The two polished concrete walls and two beige tinged white ones flanking this numbing ground certainly aren’t stealing the show. Three brass hooks attached to the white door, stand emptily to attention, as if silently in salute to some bygone nazi. Clothes suffocate one corner.
It’s absolutely fucking pissing down out there!
Why am I staring at this floor? Motionless, thinking of al the things I could be doing right at this moment, yet slumped like a man digesting his self inflicted fate of decades behind bars. Depressed. Imprisoned… But I’m not depressed? Could be the weed I suppose?
Twenty two oracle cards labeled `Enlightenment’ laid out in an odd but deliberate fashion match answers to my question. Well, more questions to my question than answers to be honest. They do sooth me though, and baring in mind their bright pastel coloured illustrations, the room isn’t so dull after all. Doubt you’ll find these cards in your average prison. Best I shut the fuck up and go do something useful. Plus I want a cuppa.
The odd Shaman is in the next room. Well she’s more the cantankerous old sod who needs a holiday and a shit load more sleep, than a shaman, at this moment! Best I don’t pester her for a ride to the shop. No, tonight an umbrella shall be my carriage… I’m dong this!
HA! The rains’ stopped. Umbrella doesn’t work anyhow. Mind you, now that I’ve manned up and got out the door, the testosterone alone should get me to my destination. Fourteen minutes walk away from here. A warm smile from the odd shaman’s night driver sends me onward.
It’s quite mild out, the air smells funny though. Kind of musty, a little dirty, a little fresh, and with a hint of liquorice. What the fuck? Liquorice! Weird. Still though, nice vibe in the air as I pound my way up the road feeling all righteous just for the act of walking to the shops. What a twat! I really am delusional. Stoned too!
Taking just enough time to check out the female shoppers buzzing around the store with great purpose and poise, I select a pen and plain paper writing pad from the frankly uninspiring options seemingly displayed with contempt before me. They don’t sell beer here. A good thing as surely I would have been swayed away from my impassioned mission.
The walk home was as brief as the respite in the torrential rain. As soon as I get in the door `BOOM!’ The cleansing continues. Well, that’s how I view tonight’s rain anyhow. Last night the huge full moon set a few things in motion, we needed this good hard wash down.
Been an astonishing year so far. Feels like some sort of time stretch has occurred this first third of 2012. The whole life-time of leading up to this so doted on year, seems to be of exactly the same length of time as the first four months of the oh12 calendar entry. Mind you I can’t figure out if that equates to forty two long years, or one immeasurably short nano-second of time. Or if anything really exists, and is actually happening at all for that matter. Guess that’s why I got the pen & paper… Gotta figure out this conundrum once and for all. Although maybe that bit will be for you, the reader? Who knows.
Is there a God? Is the universe God? What am I? Why is anything? How does this shit work?
Five thousand or so years of recognised recorded history sitting at the arse end of a twenty six thousand year galactic cycle offers thousands of organised groups, led by millions of people and followed by billions more, all stating that “YES!” there is a definitive to most everything. Actually many of them will also tell you what God is or is not, and even how many there are or are not. Few however agree on very much, well other than for some apparently inexplicable reason all of their Gods seem to resemble humans and/or animals of this planet in one way or another, and apparently al of these `Gods’ are enemies of each other. For by `choosing’ one of these Gods to identify with generally renders you a rather awful and unspeakable fate should you not follow the set rules of `your God’, or dare consider identifying with another of these Gods… the tenants that God made us, is in charge, is everywhere and knows everything including what you’re up to, must be obeyed and loved, in fact `is’ love in many cases, is parallel in most of these organised `God groups’.
Or so we were told. By humans…
Even the apparent Gods on earth telling us this same stuff throughout history have generally been in the form of humans. Men generally. Well for the last five thousand years anyway.
Being a man, i am acutely aware of this human `ego thing’, so I have tried to be less arrogant than to say I know the definitive answer to anything significant at all really. But in saying that, strangely I am still compelled to write my story.
Well, It’s not just my story… But I’ll tell you more about `her’ later. Yes, this story, this journey with God, through the universe, around the blue ball we call home, and within it all the greatest love story perhaps ever written. A romance. A dance. A sacred ritual.
This story is the story of `us’, of everything, of nothing. The story of creation itself.
But yeah, it’s just a story. An opinion or independent version of `things’ if you like. I will say at this point though, it is also an absolutely 100% true story. Not one aspect of this book is embellished, made up or fluffed out to attain readers consent. Every single detail, even when seemingly unbelievable, is based on actual experience. This is a completely non-fictional story… Granted you only have my word on that, and you will never know my name. But all I can say is I have nothing to gain from it either. You be the judge and coin it as you will… Fiction, biography, channelled message, art-house muck, or gobshite rabbiting comedy! That’s up to you. But write it I must.
I’ll do you a favour though, my name or any other `characters’ names’ included in this twisting illustrative text (bar one), will not be included in the book or will ever be mentioned anywhere. No rules of an kind will be even hinted at, yet alone forced upon you as law. No influencing you to my way of seeing things or discrediting of others thoughts on any subject encroached on here, will be part of this book.
This is a story. A gift I want to share without any profit, benefit, or even recognition to myself at all actually. Indeed there will only be one copy of this book I produce. It will then be given to one very special person, forever un-signed.
Whatsoever that person does with the book is entirely up to them and will determine whether you are the only person, or one of many reading this. Time (what ever that is?) will tell I guess. (Yes, science will be included in your read… balance right?)
So I have no idea if this read will be beneficial to you in any way, what if anything you will take from it, if it will entertain you, or even be read at all for that matter.
But I do know this, it is being written and with a spot of luck the dynamics, romance, joy, colour, fear, sadness and all manner of glorious attributes that have driven me to put pen to paper at this time literally after an extraordinary life-time of discovery, shines through and engages you in some way. After all, now you are reading t, this is no longer my story at all… It is our story. As is the case with all stories. As far as I can tell anyhow. But what the shit would I know?
The author.
"I am not Shaman. But perhaps I once was. I am not a healer, a teacher, a poet, an artist, a priest, a medicine man, a guide, a spirit animal, nor profit, warrior nor saint. But perhaps I once was. I would lay down my life in the blink of an eye for you when called to battle great darkness. I would give my blood to enable on more heart beat in your chest, and call the very waters from the deep to quench your thirst while you sing and dance and play under the fractal light I summonsed to your feet. No, indeed I am no-one and nothing but part of you, though I am not in your visions right now. But perhaps I once was…"
