K&C of my HGA

Dead leaves are blown along the treaded path I am stepping down. Dried foliage line the edges evidence of a scorching hot season.
Dead leaves are blown along the treaded path I am stepping down. Dried foliage line the edges evidence of a scorching hot season.

There is Intelligence in all things.

Hints of an unborn aspect of my higher self noticing stirrings in the grown over area just past the clearing up a ways. The presence of another being is felt, dually noted, and I continue forward at a quickened pace.

There is a beauty in this land that terrifies me suddenly. Premonitions of psychedelic insight. Very Little Anxiety.

Each movement is measured like in a Erlenmeyer Flask in a laboratory workspace. A part of me is a scientist. Another aspect of my rational mind that is trying to avoid letting this become known to another body. Why so cautious though. Dried foliage around me, dead leaves blown into patches lining the treaded path.

The part of me was unknown to me then. Intelligence is omnipresent in nature. Intelligence one step removed. Plants nature; after all plants created animals to carry seed.

Definitely a presence noted. A fuller picture of the path comes into focus.

“For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror which we are barely able to endure, and it amazes us so, because it serenely disdains to destroy us. Every angel is terrifying.” -Ranier Maria Rilke, Dunnio Elegies

THE I THAT identifies with movement was replaced and were it literally being drawn into the landscape that at once become move vast. Not unlike in Steppenwolf by Hesse and the Mirrors.

“You’ve been afraid your whole life.” My eyes defect to the zero th degree in front of my face. Standing with wings is an angel. Mind boy shrinks into introspection, forces it away, and is pulled back. It says, “This will be over soon.”

A physiological response; pupils dilate into saucers, skin tight on saw, and pulse racing. Light constant speed measured by science. Scientist Bose plants react to stimulus. In the light of the truth is shown the infancy stage our species is emerging from. The yellow eyes of an angel sighs infinity. Now becomes me. Did any of it happen can only be recalled by me. Sober headedness. Gone are the days of fear causing bad reactions in self what result in poor relationships. An apparently enormous snake has swallowed it all.

“Moving past self doubt.” says a higher power. “In the burning away of self doubt you will achieve new romances to replace your former conceptions on the nature of reality.”

Returned was I to this plane. My self awareness – newly discovered- that could only be described as bad. Visions of the horrible acts I committed Atrocities I was capable of? I have the advantage of a constant perspective. Just as the strange attractor pulled my life into terrifying planes my mental life would become heightened to new dimensions, and higher dimensional spacial manifolds. Bad was the wrong word. Instead I used beguiling.

Nobody could find out about the time I called outside my mind to find this simple truth, else I open myself to criticism.

“Dont fail me,” says to the metamorphose figure just a mirror in the clearing past the path that reflects an image of a cosmic citizen to be.

Reeling from what the space around me whispers to be responsible. But did you hear it? An angel beckoning.

I’m not an asshole. Je suis vraiment bien à tout le monde

The true sound of truth

An old story speaks about a similar problem. A devoted meditator, after years concentrating on a particular mantra, had attained enough insight to begin teaching. The student’s humility was far from perfect, but the teachers at the monastery were not worried. 

A few years of successful teaching left the meditator with no thoughts about learning from anyone; but upon hearing about a famous hermit living nearby, the opportunity was too exciting to be passed up. 

The hermit lived alone on an island at the middle of a lake, so the meditator hired a man with a boat to row across to the island. The meditator was very respectful of the old hermit. As they shared some tea made with herbs the meditator asked him about his spiritual practice. The old man said he had no spiritual practice, except for a mantra which he repeated all the time to himself. The meditator was pleased: the hermit was using the same mantra he used himself – but when the hermit spoke the mantra aloud, the meditator was horrified! 

“What’s wrong?” asked the hermit. 

“I don’t know what to say. I’m afraid you’ve wasted your whole life! You are pronouncing the mantra incorrectly!” 

“Oh, Dear! That is terrible. How should I say it?” 

The meditator gave the correct pronunciation, and the old hermit was very grateful, asking to be left alone so he could get started right away. On the way back across the lake the meditator, now confirmed as an accomplished teacher, was pondering the sad fate of the hermit. 

“It’s so fortunate that I came along. At least he will have a little time to practice correctly before he dies.” Just then, the meditator noticed that the boatman was looking quite shocked, and turned to see the hermit standing respectfully on the water, next to the boat. 

“Excuse me, please. I hate to bother you, but I’ve forgotten the correct pronunciation again. Would you please repeat it for me?” 

“You obviously don’t need it,” stammered the meditator; but the old man persisted in his polite request until the meditator relented and told him again the way he thought the mantra should be pronounced. 

The old hermit was saying the mantra very carefully, slowly, over and over, as he walked across the surface of the water back to the island.