FREED TO OXYGENATE "...doubt makes you ravenous..." 12/23/19 "...born from the unnamed,..." "... ​ punched out to the storm."

Above
6:32 AM
Paused in the Garden Lot....
....heading towards Sand Dunes Path & Sunrise Beach

Below
​6:34 AM
Paused at top of Sand Dunes Path

HELD IN ORIGINAL SILENCE
BREATH IS FREED TO OXYGENATE
TRUTH OF BEING’S EXPRESSION
ew
4:56 AM-12/23/2019

...from Lao-Tsu
Why scurry about looking for the truth? 
It vibrates in every thing and every not-thing,
right off the tip of your nose. ​

Can you be still and see it in the mountain?
the pine tree?
yourself? ​

Don't imagine that you'll discover
it by accumulating more knowledge. 
Knowledge creates doubt,
and doubt makes you ravenous
for more knowledge. 
You can't get full eating this way. ​

The wise person dines on something more subtle: 
He eats the understanding
that the named was born from the unnamed, 
that all being flows from non-being,
that the describable world
emanates from an
indescribable source. 

He finds this subtle truth inside his own self, 
and becomes completely content. 

So who can be still and watch the chess game of the world?
The foolish are always making impulsive moves,
but the wise know that victory and defeat
are decided by something more subtle.

Two VERY LARGE birds VERY HIGH in sky HOVERING for the longest...

​They see that something perfect exists
before any move is made. 
This subtle perfection deteriorates
when artificial actions are taken, 
so be content not to disturb the peace.
Remain quiet.

Discover the harmony in your own being. 
Embrace it. 
If you can do this,
you will gain everything, 
and the world will become healthy again.

If you can't,
you will be lost in the shadows forever. 
Lao-Tsu
https://www.scienceandnonduality.com/article/why-scurry-about-looking-for-the-truth

6:43 AM Leaving Sunrise Beach....rain has started.....

How do some people live
without experiencing anything
that shaped the nudity
that solely confronts our conscience!

 Excerpt from:
A Snap of Delirium 
https://midnightmusings790.wordpress.com/2019/01/20/a-snap-of-delirium/

​ AFTERNOON 

LOVE’S SPEECHLESS SONG
 
THE UTTERED SOUND
IS WORDLESS BREATH
&
BREATHLESS WORD
ew
Friday, May 02, 2003
4:12 AM

THERE IS NO HOME
 IN THE POMP & CIRCUMSTANCE
OF WORLDLINGS’ EARTHLY
HOMECOMINGS
 
THE SOUL SWOONED INTO WEEPING
REMINDED OF HOME
AND WHAT IS NOT FOR ME
AS OTHERS EXPERIENCE.
 
SO WASTE NO TIME WITH SHADOWY MAYA
=
BE PRIMORDIAL DARK’S GOLD
THE LIGHTS ARE ALWAYS THERE
OR NOT...
​
...IT MATTERS NOT
WHEN ONE IS HOME
ew
Saturday, May 03, 2003
5:56 AM 

 TAGORE!
DEATH AS MOTHER
 
FORMLESS FORM
OF THE ENGORGED BREAST
 WAS THE  FIRST
SHADOW OF NOURISHMENT
IN THIS MAYA PLAYGROUND..
 
RETURNING NOW TO
THAT WHICH HAS NO SHADOW
OR FORM.
 
WHAT THEY CALL DEATH
IS THAT WHICH IS
ALL THAT IS
!ATIAH!*
 
THIS BREAST- SUCKLNG BABE
CANNOT
DOES NOT
CHATTER
FUSS
OR
WRITE POEMS!

ew
Sunday, May 04, 2003
4:09 AM
*!ATIAH! = All That Is AH!

Don’t write to be a writer. 
Write to get to know your madness better. 
Write like it’s the only way you’ll ever meet
your other unfathomable half. 
And to fathom the inexplicable is the purpose of art.

 Forget about relevance. 
Forget what makes sense. 
The kid watching with his wide sparkling eyes 
how his father is coating the last tinges of paint
 on a certain someone’s car 
may not be part of a story. 
But it’s part of your vision.
 Write about the kid. 
 https://midnightmusings790.wordpress.com/about/

UTTERED AS SILENCE.
 
BREATHED FORTH
BY THE GREAT BREATHER... 

SILENT’S SONG IS THE
ALPHA/OMEGA SAME
REGARDLESS OF FORMS
ew
​Monday, May 05, 2003
6:04 AM

CRAVING LIFE
Even if ruins stink of rotten antiquity,
poor’s hands and mouths still search
for treasures in ruins, and one dense night
they get to lick one or the other edible pearls
and deposit them in their box of ‘everyday’.

There’s always hope in gutters;
there’s always a bright possibility lying wide awake
before the road bends towards End.
Those who aren’t willing to live haven’t lost faith in life,
but lost the loud murmurs of searchlights.
​
They want lightbearers,
to speak up the sign language of mirth
and to bless their empty lives
with green apples, oranges and pineapples.

​ But fruits are not to be blessed, but to be borne.
For million years onwards,
we are bearing our beards,
our judgments,
our smells and the rest of the billions’.

You are an imperfect product
of a long tiring chain
and that chaining effect can be shed,
even if others may tell you
that past can never be relinquished.

It cannot be forgotten, but it can be given up.
If it lurks at your nightmares,
let go of the nightmares....

...It need not be denied
but can be
​ punched out to the storm.
Believe me it’s a sin
​not to murder your nightmares.
​https://midnightmusings790.wordpress.com/2019/05/24/craving-life/