Dear Rudy, This is what you helped to learn me: The inherent Purpose of the experience of Life is to wean ourselves off of an over-dependence upon social relationship so that we are not constantly in search of a 'karmic event horizon' of social proporption (or, at least, what we commonly associate as social) as the 'only' outlet to view our selves or ego fire. Multi-Dimensional Beings have infinite outlets for Self-Realization within the divine creative auspices of consciousness. We shall, then, tend to be interested more in the Light of Life and the Life of Light only one small portion of which is what we commonly term 'energy' or even 'life' in physical reality, intimately connected or in relation with reality as a continuous whole. Experience or Event implies an inherent 'from withiness' within which is contained the genetic programs for the unfoldment of consciousness, Life and Creativity and Relationship. Once the Light of Life or of multi-dimensional experience meets the single ego cellular person the single time-locked psyche is fragmented into its natural home or ecosystem (or icosystem) in multi-dimensionality, ritual and imagination; the nation whose border is the sky and ground by which we are a continual celebration of the Justice of Life, Death and Re-Life, Love, Body and Creation (Birth). This fragmentation, rather than taking from what was presumed by the single ego psyche to be the whole self, respells the crystalline lattice being with which we hava our true individuality (our spirit we our spirit) and cosmic democracy, e pluribus unum. Again, this respelling, although appearing to be stimulated from outer energetic pollution (or distortion), meets its cosmic marriage partner, you, which knows itself only as within and, as within, eternally reborn. What is the yardstick by which we measure this experience, emblematic as it is of all communion and cosmic or planetary community? Whatever IT is, IT is a frequency of creative loving synchronization that, at once, transcends and IN forms time-bound perception of Self and World and Other or Mother Self. Then, we can, with irony and humour, truly ask ourselves, can time really be bound at all; can soul be anything but beautiful? Beyond the next horizon, a bough does not break, as a localized ego might perceive it; a bough or the bough bends and, in bending, (Night, Light, God, Self) breaks the will into infinite black shards of consciousness each in throws of trans-dimensional trans-geometrical rhythm that writhes and builds the world even as it is builded within these Luciferian alabaster walls of thought, feeling and flesh - Self and Mother Self for Ever Divi-ating or Divinely Eating One Another. Beyond the next horizon, the world sets and rises; that is, it burns burns burns like a thousand diamond oceans brilliantly reflecting one another and by reflecting we mean to say, Good Night and Good Morning each I am Yourself, Omega - royal jewel of the crowns of heaven. AUMERICA. Merry Christmas & Aloha. Be Yond', the next horizon, for what is above is like what is below to accomplish the miracle of the one thing... "...one of the great unalloyed solitary joys of life - being up at first light and setting out on empty roads to go someplace difficult and significant." Norman Rush, American Writer "One of the treasures of travel, one of the reasons we journey to distant places, is to intensify our appreciation of the familiar things we've known since childhood." James A. Michener "The primary imagination I hold to be the Living Power." Samual Taylor Coleridge "The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible." Oscar Wilde And down the river's dim expanse Like some bold seer in a trance, Seeing all his own mischance -- With a glassy countenance Did she look to Camelot. And at the closing of the day She loosed the chain, and down she lay; The broad stream bore her far away, The Lady of Shalott. Lying, robed in snowy white That loosely flew to left and right -- The leaves upon her falling light -- Thro' the noises of the night, She floated down to Camelot: And as the boat-head wound along The willowy hills and fields among, They heard her singing her last song, The Lady of Shalott. Heard a carol, mournful, holy, Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, Till her blood was frozen slowly, And her eyes were darkened wholly, Turn'd to tower'd Camelot. For ere she reach'd upon the tide The first house by the water-side, Singing in her song she died, The Lady of Shalott... Lord Tennyson The end of the dream will be when it matters Have you been borne yet & are you alive? Let's reinvent the gods, all the myths of the ages. Celebrate symbols from deep elder forests. Welcome to the American Night where dogs bite to find the voice the face the fate the fame to be tamed by The Night in a quiet soft luxuriant car Hitchhikers line the Great Highway Are you a lucky little lady in The City of Light? Or just another lost angel City of Night City of Night City of Night City of Night Jim Morrison
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