Flaget has started to notice that during sessions and intense discussion I occasionally space out. She wants to know what I'm thinking. Sometimes there are deep ruminations going on upstairs about the nature of reality, interpersonal relationships, love. But I think that more often than not I'm not really thinking of anything-- just humming to myself a little tune: duh duh duh...
A few weeks ago I was cruising the streets of Queens vibing to Bob Marley and Steve and the Most High. It hit me that much of our relationships with other people and with life in general has to do with listening to the ever present melodies in everything and everyone, and allowing our souls to resonate with that song. Sometimes it causes us to sing along, to move our bodies, to change our individual melody to mix in harmony with the other. it's just an idea (highdea?).
We've been learning about Franciscan spirituality and at the core of it is this idea that the basis of reality is relationship. The Divine Him/Herself is the perfect coexistence of three Persons--Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. As reflections of the Creator we are connected to everything and everyone. Kind of cliche and new agey I know, but it's quite deep. Still have much, much more to learn about what this means...
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What would I give for just a few moments, just to have IT near…
Irretrievable longings for the love I once dreamed of by the shores which swept me off my inherency and into the abyss that darkens the long road ahead with senseless control over the dimming radiance of my relentless longing for that which remains constant without defeat despite submissions of my cogito, too often, it breaks down, and comes to a stop. But the will to power awakens the lightness of my being above the ashes of burnt out walls built by the hands of temporal reason and cowardice fear of the roaring tidal waves…they try to retrieve me but I need to choose my fate for paths are meant to guide the curious spark towards the river of flames without forcing the burden of knowledge upon the feeble and unprepared youth of passionless fervor wrapped with perceptions of equally ripe minds, either destined to be left on the trees of ornamental uselessness or deconstructed ever so sweetly by the fangs of integrity. But ask this, can we reconcile submission and freedom on the battlegrounds we choose to slay our fragile swords? This moment, I am a hostage to the faceless man of indifference who comes at me with a blade sharper than my convictions and his aimless rampage freezes me with helpless shivers of a mirror image…Here begins the tale of a homeless boy anchored by the excess of his mediocrity…To run, he must starve, to fight, he must die and live among the glory of his unscratchable roots preserved deeply in the soil upon which the gods of seasons play out their magical tunes, underneath the sun that never fades beneath it all…… may our paths collide and burst into sparks that scatter upon heads more than our own Mendoza, let the tunes of your courage guide you inter-subjective calling…
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