Harbour Island, Bahamas
April 9, 2019
MIMING WITH SEEMING PERFECTION
THE ANGEL WITH FLAMING SWORD*
“MARK OF INNER AUTHORITY” RETURNS
“THE EMPEROR HAS NO CLOTHES”
DISAPPEARING ALL THAT IS NOT REAL**
A FULL CIRCLE RETURN***
Harbour Island, Bahamas April 9, 2019
A life, and then
Throughout this cycle of
From the Source - To the Source,
The Source remains ever as it was.
To know the Source is to
Transcend the cycle.
On the ocean bursts,
It returns to the ocean.
This is death;
Your death and my death.
Returning to the Source,
What is there to fear?
Before there were individuals,
There were no problems.
Then, the individuals
Turned this against that and
Identification with a body is
Merely a habit
Taught to the child
Early in its life.
Breaking this habit is like
A chick breaking its shell.
What a wondrous world awaits.
This time of staying in our homes for days and weeks at a time feels analagous to spending time in a chrysalis—a place of transformation.
When we emerge from the chrysalis,
we will likely note that the world looks very different to caterpillars than butterflies.
We may notice that in the form of butterflies,
we have gained new perspective from a higher vantage point than we ever previously had as caterpillars.
Cynthia Sue Larsen
As soon as she is born—she,
he—the moment the newborn breathes
for the first time, taking, from the general
supply, some air, pulling it down
half her length, into the base of the
lobe which had first existed as a mattery
idea, and then had become the folded
lung, which lay in blue wait;
is drawn in, like a
petal expanding, in fast motion,
opening into the new being--
oxygen, where it had never been,
taking the neonate’s bluish shade
back into the empyrean;
and given back the rest—look,
she is dying. I mean she is living—for a time,
maybe ninety years—but she
is on her way, now, to that ending.
She had never died at all, until now,
never before been offered the human work.
I have been a wanderer long
In this world of transient things.
I have known the passing pleasures thereof.
As the rainbow is beautiful,
But soon vanishes into nothingness,
So have I known,
From the very foundation of the world,
The passing away of all things
Beautiful, joyous and pleasurable.
With the eternal, with the indestructible,
With divinity, with immortality,
With wisdom which is the pool of Heaven,
If thou wouldst know of that everlasting Kingdom of Happiness,
If thou wouldst know of that Beauty that never fades or decays,
If thou wouldst know of that Truth that is imperishable and alone--
Then, O world,
Look deep within thyself
Thou hast been nourished by the transient things,
In these thou shalt never find that Happiness
For which thy soul doth seek and suffer.
And play with the passing world.
As the swift-running river knows its source,
So must thou know thine own being.
As the soft blue lake whose depth no man knows,
So must thy depth be unfathomable.
Thou must cut thyself free from this weed that binds thee,
That suffocates thee,
That destroys thy vision,
That kills thine affection,
That prevents thy thought.
Fall over the noisy world,
So, instantly, have I found Thee,
Deep in the heart of all things and in mine own.
I sat on a rock,
And Thou wert beside me and in me,
All things being in Thee and in me.
Happy is the man that findeth Thee and me
In all things.
Through the delicate lace of a spring tree,
I beheld Thee.
In the twinkling stars
I beheld Thee.
In the swift passing bird,
Disappearing into the black mountain,
I beheld Thee.
ocean of love