Pondering in May
Life begins with a sense of longing for itself.
This longing is sought out wherever it enters out of time, transfixed gaze of the wild eye, movement of the slithering snake, lizard, or that energy that electrifies you from some beings.
There is no location where you can grasp at as lightning itself……it is a spark that enters you and you are stunned, you want to hold on…. but can not and have no word, even an utterance on it’s behalf…it is the longing for all the mysteries of being, being in and out of it simultaneously…grasping at what you can not for you are itself…and words fall between your clumsy fingers like ash.
We go astray when we are overwhelmed in that solitude for which we long for and may be the ”why” some who feel that longing the most, are sensitive the most, are reaching out in substances to feel momentarily some spark of that that they long for and so as grasping at thin air that demon of addiction gets the grasp of such fragile souls…a few, by some miracle are saved and find alternatives to their search.
In my personal life, as long back as i remember this feeling was strong…it was desperate to be dead to that connection and so utterly, shockingly exhilarated by such moments that the not knowing or understanding, or simply need of holding on to it would be shattering…As futile as grasping to hold this thin air of breath itself.
Here, mostly alone, there is the luxury of the wealth of silent nature’s offerings…(Suddenly the Golden Oriole began to sing his sweet golden song)…
Then there is the miracle of internet through which connections to vast variety of people talking, expressing themselves is available.
It is clearly noticeable, possibly even more clearly so as a distant observer, to watch those who’s entire manner is synchronised with their depth’s of being or in contrast to others so consumed by construed culture that you only see a tragic marionette.
These thoughts have circled my mind as to why some people get through me.
We are primitive to what we can understand of ourselves as we have no vision of our evolutionary growth as in a movie, running on the screen of our minds.
If only we did, then, may be we might get glimpses of our impulses, searches, longings and despairs.
Then may be we might understand that we all grew out of those elementary sediments of ancient oceans, grew together, taking various paths to wings of flight, fins to oceans or feet to stand this earth.
Gravity holds us tight to stand this unquenched thirst for longing to connect, once again to the origins of creation…an oxymoron.. our longings lead to creation of life in the ecstasy of sexuality.
If it were not for the climax there would be only frustration but then when the climax is devoid of that connection is the bloody smashing of bodies falling from great heights to brutal rocks which all addictions even in this act leave humans desperate and separate from life.
Is this why with all sophistication of our minds we have sexuality, blatant or subliminal entering every advertisement barging into our lives? Is this the force of life longing for itself whilst being itself?
The hills are pink with these fragile flowers just sprouting out, daringly, without a care for just a while to dry up and return to the ground upon which they grew.
Is this the ecstasy of being?
