|The Book was an inevitable part of your sweet victory. Glory be to the highest. I have one prayer, and that is when I give up my path, I want it to end-up, at your door, so the real movie can begin. The glory of wonderful occasions are so deeply rung_ in my blood, that I know there will be a day, when we meet, and then ‘the-then-some’ can begin. It will be the obvious relaxing of the inevitable ‘floating flagstone pathway’ to the stars, and then there is the matter of who will take care of the pets, while we are away, and then I just wrote the heck out of the next entry, and it came up for air, and we were still there, and I was not scared anymore.
It is outrageous to think, that you are going anywhere. Let’s hear no more of that. John, I just said that, Knowing, we have no reason to hold you back__ from when and where you need to be, We are all so fortunate to have come down this flagstone pathway, that floats just up there in the air, and it was a wonderful journey through the light, and I am feeling lighter than air, even as my wife and daughter hover, just over there. They are interfering, in the way, that I am disatracted… and that is not what this is all about.
I am just in the path, and it is a powerful way to cast the back at you task of why we came this way, and how is it that we are all still connected, and I am loving the prima rosa experience of being here for you, and I want that to always be the case_ like little ben to the great arthur.
I am a mere servant at the bottom of the flask, and I love my service. In place and time, I want to arrive in my head in the wonderful blonde light of the forging atmosphere. Looking for the sublime degree of too much of when, and the where of how have I been so long.
Oh! John, Just thought I’d drop through,…and give you a boost of the third degree. There is no task, that I can’t arrive at place, and be not just present, but just jump in and be all there, and then it was as it had always been and the speed just rose and slammed and the writing ripped across the universe into spaces in between, and the headless acts of contrition that contain the moderating “not enough of this…too little of that”_ took me off task, and I wandered away and gave up the prize.
I only want…really!_ to get onto the glory train, and hold you up to the light and see what you are made of. I know it is of greatness and I am not defining your mirror image, but the effect you have on all of us, and if you left? It would be from the place that leaves us wondering why would John say those things. He says them for our own good, and because he believes in what, he says. There is a place.
Took a break to get our schedules down. That was the intrusion that was about to happen on this end. Anyway. I am back again, and now I can dig in. I am distracting myself from any intellectual enterprise by imagining a rabbit. I am the rabbit running fast at that Florida race track.
“Please don’t eat me. I am not your stew, Mr.Greyhound.”
“Gizmo”, the leader of the pack and the witty impresario of just following the non-sensical, and the swirling atmosphere, and the complicated finger patternings_ of sweeping my thoughts across the page is not speaking. They, the women, are just standing in the kitchen, wondering what I am doing over here, and I want you to know, that I can’t go on forever, but that I will return and I can only hope that you will be glad to see me again next time. Next time.
Post script: John, I read your post three times and it was deep and I took away what I could and I would hope that it was enough, but each time I went over it_ it became more clear/and more oblique. You are making this up, as in the parentage of the page_ of trends and happenings ahead. Be prepared for real change. A different atmosphere.. It_ grounded in real time forces of nature_ delivered on truth. The real time degree of elemental action and focus on the frame. A realized resolution of instant called up action. Faith, on faith proceeds to the coast of the here and now, and when the end/\began it came in the night like a thief. I believed on the ‘aire of the evening’_ to understand what the true resolution meant to me. Hold on. I am not falling.
So many mistakes in this action. My scription_ I’ll fix the miscast stars, and the heavens will be full again. I see in the image from Blake, that you are at the gate of Heaven …the actor in the actor of the act of being at heaven’s door and the reporting back of the image and
I know now that for this night, I am done, by my own faith. I believe you will understand that I write from the only place I know. Not in a ball of confusion, but it is and from_ on a simple stool using the tools of this new atmosphere. I am not anything but your most basic american boy, but when I grew up I pretended_ not…to be a man. In the sense that I never wanted to grow up, because what I saw around me was not an enterprise of faith and love, but what I see now is a true way to be.
I am coming by it gradually, and it is casting a new page inside of me. If only I could throw out the nets of destiny. I am not the sometime love of the true one and only, but I am a reasonable facsimile of the man I was meant to be. Hosanna and praise the Lord_ for finding me. I am loved and I was here waiting for the pages to unfold and the gold to just fall from my hands. I am happy and the results will come and noone will decide but me if this is what I should be. I am happy in here_ being me. TaTa TR Infinity
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|The search for truth in one’s life can lead a person down many paths. Some find their own truth, some as you say are never able to face their truths and mask it with the material, feeding superficial needs. It seems to me that as we age, as we live life, we learn what truth is. Some cannot face it, some face it and cannot accept, some accept it and their life becomes clear. But each one of us will eventually come to see our own truths. This blog is one of the paths you are walking to search for your truth. However long this path is, I am glad that as you are walking you’ve been sharing it with the rest of us.|||< << >> >||
|Hi Pilar. That there is one truth for all is the first truth, but we all receive grace in different ways and do different things with it because we’re all individuals – that is, individualizations of Divine substance, not equal to but rather made of the same “stuff.” In that way we are like God, hence the term “children.” The relationship is just exactly like that. My children aren’t me but they are made of the “stuff” of me, and they go forth now having that. What is man’s birthright? What does he return to the Father to demand when he comes into his time? An interesting post over at Theology for Dummies suggests that happiness is the goal of life – but not in the way we understand it. I recommend reading it.|||< << >> >||
|Hi TR! I had recently complained to another friend about regretting the afterthought-written phrase which seems so controversial in this post to the effect that there will come a time I may no longer need to write this blog. That musing is no more than a statement of the obvious; people come and go all the time, for whatever reason. I have missed purp’s presence here and wayf is seldomly around. Although it is gratifying to know that in such an eventuality I would be missed, I was bemused that it entirely upstaged the substance of my writing.
In any event, let us take an example of what I meant from education. A person begins with ignorance of – let us say, Art – and as he learns more and more about how to appreciate Art he must become more discriminating in his taste for it. That is obvious. As a result, his perception has now changed; he probably visits different places than he used to, associates with different people than he used to, et cetera. That’s just life: we do better when we know better.
Now, he can return to a place which had once satisfied his aesthetic sensibility but only physically; it is to him a different place, although he is the one who has changed. We have all experienced the phenomenon of returning to a hometown, or some such place, to find it altered. Perhaps we are even uncomfortable there. The path I wrote of is an image describing that phenomenon – “You can’t go home again.”
In this case – in my case, that is – the things I am being taught are also changing my perception. There is much in the world that I used to be able to ignore, or perhaps I was callused to it, which now appears disgusting. (It is also like one who can no longer stomach a Big Mac because he has gone to culinary school.) I have my good days – days in which I can overmaster my disgust with these things, and my bad days – days in which I find that I must demonstrate over disgust and even rage. No one would say to the culinary institute graduate “You MUST eat a Big Mac,” but rather we may easily enough accept that his perception has changed and so he no longer appreciates it. To each his own, as we say.
My post was not really about that phenomenon that we all know, but really about renunciation. You have read me from the beginning, so perhaps you too can see the direction I appear to be headed in. I began by stating that I was on a journey towards beauty, and it’s through my growing appreciation of beauty that ugliness became unacceptable. It is like that with morality too, and I have discovered that nothing is both beautiful and immoral. I began by stating that I am a believer in limitless possibilities, but as I learned more I came to realize that it is better to possess a single truth than a limitless number of limitless possibilities. And finally, I began this as an effort to express myself but discovered over this past year how little of my self is worthy of expression, but I often write well about matters far greater.
I learn the most not from writing what I know to be true – for that is a little only – but from writing and being wrong, and then writing again and being right. My tirade about the principle of Acceptance is really about resignation for too often they are confused, and that is merely laziness. The path to God is not an all-encompassing puppy hug of empty-minded acceptance – not a broadening of the mind, but rather a narrowing, sharpening focus on Truth. On the broad highway there are many distractions, and there comes a point at which almost everything is a distraction. That’s the beginning of understanding the way is really narrow; it is a narrow way.
I would never had said such a thing a year ago. As we know better we do better.
One thing I did say a year ago is that it’s none of my business what others think of me. That’s still true. I also said you are a writer who continues to inspire me, TR. That’s even more true today than it once was.
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|Bigger than all the world around us is God.
We can be assured that we are in the presence of God.
Even when we actively digest the moments in a sense of disdain.
We are eating_ what is the food of our life.
The breath of the substance, that has our true interlude.
Center on_ the narrowness of the great door.
There is alive in our world, a new way of understanding.
The great teacher- I never had before, because I was not ready.
I am growing by leaps and bounds. Maybe you can’t see that,
Contentment, not in the end result, but in the sequencing of events.
Strong in my contract to achieve the life of these words.
Without the life of the mind, What?
It is musical_ without a doubt, and simple,
I can last, because finally I have arrived at the simple equation.
Everytime, I bring what is happening within the heart of me.
The breath of the not-breath would only suffocate me.
Somehow, our sequenced births, call,
Bunches of beauty and loveliness on this great Valentine’s day__
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|Happy Valentine’s Day to you too, TR. You have written a masterpiece here which I have read many times without being able to summon the words to reply. As honored guest co-author of the White Lodge you must by now have learned my limitations as a writer occasionally silence me. I usually resort to joking around in that case – change the subject, you know? But I can’t do that here, in this case. I’m too abashed, as it were, by its content. Remember always: What you write here is at least two-thirds of why everybody else bothers to read this blog. You live here – in the cyber ‘here.’ You have a permanent seat in the Lodge, and it wouldn’t be what it is – whatever it is – without you.
See, I had been struggling with something meaningful to say for so long – but there I said it, just like that.
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|A Hoot owl melange is a term that means_ disordered order of a suspect nature, but certainly worth review. Unequivocally, I am happy to hear all that you said, and it is in the bank with a memory stamp. I certainly don’t take the position, that my place or chair is on the order of that great a portion, but in the company you keep__I am most happy to have acquired a chair and a view and a frame of reference.
I am most happy to participate and hopefully gain experiences, that equal the broad dimensions of this sphere.
In all actuality and with every intention…I must insist that this
As for me the world has narrowed to the looking glass world of the lodge, not entirely, but almost completely. Sounds odd….I have not decided to be a writer of the things I write, but I have come to know a free and a safe and a true part of my life’s experience that is coming closer to being___by choosing to be here, when I can.
The real home of this man_ is to know he has been listened to, as a fellow journeyman, who is coming to know the way of being in the Now, as a tool for viewing and saving our world from being extinguished
Life is good. Mostly I want to be in the yard or garden. Dan calling,
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|Whew – thank God it’s you, TR. Despite your explanation – and I cannot find fault with it in any way – I still have absolutely no idea what an hoot owl melange is. I know this is due to my own inadequacies. More importantly, that there is a ballet version of The Poseidon Adventure is very exciting – much better than the ice show.
You will be pleased to know that I am coming out of my funk. Coming out of it with me are Bernie, Bootsie, George and company. Who says a funk band can’t play rock? You know we’re gonna rock and roll this town. We’re gonna rock and roll around. Just watch me dance, watch me dance…
Anyhoo, I haven’t lately felt equal to the challenge of responding intelligently to much that has been said here. I feel like Ozzy coming out of a drink-induced stupor for just long enough to say something unintelligible to the party in progress, a mere figurehead who is only capable of a cameo appearance. It is a personal unraveling of sorts. The big questions have answers no one will like – myself least of all – so I’m thinking if I ignore them they’ll go away. That’s my real life interfering with my creative process, the silly thing. One day to wake up in the Lodge of my dreams – ah, that is my most fervent wish!
It may also be that it’s bloody February. I mean, why do we have to do this every year? There oughtta be a law. Perhaps February will be illegal in the Obama Nation.
Well, all’s well. It always was. Where was I?
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