Australopithecus: we stood up and chose the wrong route

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The majority of human beings have decided that we will go our own way.  We no longer listen to the natural world, to our origins.  We are suffering and the Earth disintegrating exactly because we have turned our backs on our divine flame and torn ourselves out of reality with manmade concepts and synthetic realities. Only a few of us are struggling to get back!

It is said that this separation started when we stood up from all-fours to widen our view and pick the best fruit from the higher branches of trees and bushes.  We poked our head up into the sky for the first time between 3.9 – 2.9 million years ago. This species, Australopithecus, played a significant part in human evolution because it could stand up straight and possessed a gene which caused increased length and ability of neurons in the brain – the SRGAP2 gene. One of these species eventually became the Homo genus in Africa about 2 million  years ago (e.g. Homo habilis),  and so on to ‘modern’ humans, Homo sapiens sapiens.

 

art work by Mariko Kinoshita
art work by
               Mariko Kinoshita

Our increased cerebral capabilities and physical stature heralded the beginning of a period of human excellence which differed from animal excellence.  Once we could negotiate the world in a new way with our increased memory capacity and other intellectual tools and skills, we naturally were spiritual beings with a sacred intent.  We were still close to our divine origin with a clear mission to express what animals could not express with the tool of language and communication, the pen and the sword. But we were and are essentially mammals, and always will be.

Our species represented the pinnacle of the evolution of mammals, painstakingly nurturing our young inside us with love and handing down our advanced cerebral capabilities. This upright beautiful species would walk the Earth and create an unsurpassed civilization, going ever upwards. But instead of remaining close to the Earth, we have become aliens with synthetic realities who have gradually lost contact with our original reality, with the universe we are a crucial part of.

 

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It seems as if we were led astray by an evil power some would call the devil, but this is a fantasy.  Imagine this moment of choice – to stay with the sacred, or to move away to the secular:  sacred meaning worthy of veneration and respect: secular meaning ‘worldly’ or ‘temporal,’ not connected or separate from those things worthy of respect. The presence of so-called ‘evil’ is a fallacy because we each have that real choice now in modern life.  We can freely choose to either respect and integrate into a whole, or to doubt and find our own way, to become a splinter.  Another way of interpreting this is that we can choose to be positive and stand in full light, or we can withdraw to the shadows and negativity.

 

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So, now our spiritual evolution lags badly behind our physical and cerebral development, and so we have a choice to deviate from what is morally acceptable, from the ‘Middle Way,’ from our innate goodness and natural love. The love we are endowed with when we come into the world often dims or disappears.  The unconditional love of our parents lavished on us from the moment of our conception which we embodied as loving innocent children, turns into an accessory – something we ‘have’ or acquire/purchase.

 

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Instead of embodying our divine inheritance of love and immortality of the spirit, we have chosen to live in a tyranny of fear, greed and envy, clinging white-knuckled to the material world because we have torn ourselves away from the natural path.  We have taken everything into our own hands, respecting little and trusting no-one.   How can we assume our role as custodians of the Earth when our arrogance dictates and controls our hearts.

The real future of the planet Earth lies in the open hands of indigenous peoples who have made the right choice.  They continue to live with a sense of awe and form a partnership with the Great Mother Nature so that all species thrive and they dance to the rhythms of the planet.  Living in traditional life, undisturbed by arrogant consumers like us, they are truly integrated. They devote their entire energy and being to caring for and listening to the planet – their visual responsibility, and the greater invisible – the universe.

 

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Images courtesy of megapixyl.com

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To glimpse aboriginal life please read my book ‘Easy-Happy-Sexy: on the Twelfth Day.’  This is an account of my time living with Australians in traditional life.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00UUSPLYM  – kindle link

http://www.amazon.com/Easy-Happy-Sexy-Twelfth-Day-Linden-Thorp/dp/1622129776/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=8-1&qid=1434547522. –  ISBN link

U tube video link:

http://youtu.be/8Tc7XuC U38k – the author speaks

https://youtu.be/xCZ3FMGc0bs

Media Deluge: I am tortured and torturer

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If we are sucked into the media vacuum, infiltrated by disturbing images of violence and corruption which become natural to us, then little by little we will fail to notice anything good, anything filled with light.

If we are only stimulated by death and demise, by materialistic mystery and gore, then how can we be aware of the real universe, the infinity and eternity we are each vital components of? The natural energy in the wild undisturbed places, flowing and pulsing, is the true nature of the planet, and it is our true nature too. These snapshots and effigies of terror we cram into our eyes, block our true nature as well as damaging the planet at many and various levels.

For the majority of us, in our relaxation time away from work and other responsibilities, we willingly fill ourselves with monsters and demons, with the filth and greed of urban life. Hungry ghosts are howling all around us, their suffering intense and, we say, unimaginable. But there is no question of using the imagination to stand in the shoes of others because we ourselves are deeply suffering beneath the veneer of respectability, the fragile semblance of convenience and fulfilment.

We too are howling in the pits of our spirits – a million suicides, thousands of torture methods, starvation and sensory deprivation – we too are hounded and hided. When we have had enough, we flick away the sordid pictures of evil as someone else’s business, the concern of the powers that be. Then we swallow and get on with creating our own brand of it.

In a string of movies, articles and books widely available, even popular, we can find torture, abuse, greed and ignorance on a grand scale; lust and betrayal, and the fertilising of more and more babies in the name of calming the irrepressible urges.

At each channel change, deadly diseases mutate and aliens target us fixing us as fugitives from our own souls, from our true nature. We run in terror, always in the dark depending on fickle torchlight instead of our own light. We are bewildered and manipulated by others.

In truth, we are rats in a maze of fear entirely synthesised by the mind, so heavily drugged by our own picture shows that we cannot even climb a nearby tree to see the exit.

 

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In just one session of viewing the flashing screen, I am tortured and I torture.

At one moment, the rack stretches me – my victim – until the tendons and ligaments snap. I hold hospital cardiologists at gunpoint because my son will die without a transplant and I am too poor to buy him a heart. I am a politician involved in outsourcing the killing of Moslems in Iraq to mercenaries, paying them billions of dollars to take them out of my hands.

At the next moment, I am a special squad policeman wading the sewers every night, working through suicides and poisonous snakes, bag-snatchers who sell their merchandise for inflated prices so they can buy their cocaine fixes, the possessed who bite and speak in scrambled tongues, a dead baby found in the gutter and a living baby found in the womb of my wife. Human life seems irreversibly doomed. It seems to be a living hell.

 

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The oblivion of orgasms, inebriation and lap dancers are what most people pursue, either openly or in secret. Erotic videos flood the internet which most of us instantly judge and dismiss, and yet we are those egocentric handsome guys masturbating while not losing eye-contact with the camera lens for a second except to see how enormous they have become. And we wait too for our moment of sticky heaven.

We are the circus acts of hard inflamed penises curling and thrusting into mouths and assorted orifices in tandem. We are the insatiable girl writhing repeatedly on a rod-like penis for the camera, blatant, moaning, putting off the moment of explosion masterfully. We writhe. We think we are repeatedly renewed. We mistake love for lust, flooding with hormones we are told are healthy. All this, not just the respectable parts, is us. The world we each see is an exact reflection of our minds.

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Each horror image or footage is a bubble encapsulating the massive wave of imbalance and artificiality. How can we not long for the end of this onslaught, this hell realm? How can we not long to know that our consciousness has expanded to blot it all out, the veil of death has been lifted and that our physical bodies are no longer needed?

This is the present state of the human race. Only our emptiness and detachment will make it stop. Only letting our positive and undistorted light shine out into the invisible world will balance this visible world.

Our compassion and acceptance are the only subduing influence that we can bring to bear on this media deluge which constantly batters the shores of our true nature.

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images courtesy of megapixyl.com : licenses at lindenthorp@gmail.com

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Avoid desires to be touched by the divine.

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It is our countless nagging desires that keep us separated from happiness, from the great truth. But there are 2 principal desires: the first is to avoid death; the second is to avoid living fully.

The intellectual mind conjures up such desires as a distraction from the free flow of our energy.  Our divine origins have led us to the manifestation of our unique energy in the world of form, and from that moment on we must undergo a huge battery of tests until the for we are tenants in deteriorates and vanishes like dust in the air.   The tests are mostly about attachment.

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Our energy flows.  It must do because the prime reason for the existence of energy is movement. But we have bounded that energy in a human form and we must carry the weight of thousands of years of conditioning, of the desires of our nation, our community, our family and our ancestors. Most people under such weight abdicate responsibility for their energy, and even forget it completely.

Can we sustain the weight while also keeping the flow of our energy and life force moving.  Or will we become static and passive, and start to live a lie, ignoring our most basic energic urges?

If we can detach form the forms and material temptations, and allow our selves to flow naturally, then there are no fears, no negativities.  Just a vital pulsing river of all life.  This is the glory of our human consciousness.

Energy is the only thing we possess.  It is dynamic is we allow it to be.

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images courtesy of megapixyi.com

Divine Thread: from the gallery

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Most of us live in a world in which the past dominates us. It seems to have such a strong influence, magnetizing us to always look into another time and making comparisons with the present. It is as if we sit in a high gallery strapped into a chair, our necks braced into position forcing us to look down on a dream which we are taught makes our reality. However, this is true conditioning, a kind of indoctrination.

The past is not in any way dynamic because it is produced by the mind as something which we amount to, something we can either regret or revel in. But above all, it is something we know, especially our personal past. We are separate from it but we can look at it whenever we like – the subject and the object.

 

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In fact, this manmade concept of ‘time’ has been created exactly because of our doubts and fears of the unknown. Time is a synthetic reality in which we can create many desires and then go about realizing them. But such activity is only a distraction from the reality of the unknown. To find true liberation we must embrace what is unknown courageously.

Desires are eternally repetitious in the dream of the past and projected into the dream of the future. The pattern is always the same, circular, a circle which keeps us captive. And the mind just goes on creating this pattern and ingraining it so we can live blindfolded, effortlessly. So that we feel safe because we think we know!

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After thousands of repetitions, particular experiences become more and more weighty, artificially significant. Then, ‘reality’ seems so convincingly real that we relegate everything else to the realm of dreams.

However, if we are living on auto-pilot, repeating everything, again and again, we are not in any way aware. Dynamism only comes into play when our full awareness is activated. Most of us prefer to be deeply asleep with auto-pilot engaged to the inconvenience of awareness. Why not allow the mind to work automatically, taking over every moment of our existence so that we can sleep.

If we sleep, we will never know Oneness with the Universe. We will never know the vast field of consciousness and the joy of each moment of the unknown. Wee will never embody the creature we are, stepping into every moment for the very first time.

We will never ‘know’ that we are composed of pure energy and that the only thing that energy does is to move eternally, flowing on in the wide river of all life.

 

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One day, someone told me that they owed me an apology. I was surprised saying that I was unaware of any mistake or offence they had created. They tried to apologize again. My response was that I would tell the person they offended when I met them and that it was not me because I am in no way the same even from moment to moment, let alone from day to day.

 

 

Images courtesy of Megapixl.com: see licenses at lindenthorp@gmail.com

To read more about ‘going beyond all dualities,’ our Divine Thread, and Oneness, please visit my web site at http://www.divinethread.wordpress.com

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True Nature: the Beginning

 

This new site – ‘TRUE NATURE: Our Supreme Inheritance’ – is dedicated to writing and perfecting a book with the same title. Another way of saying this is that I am adopting a currently very fashionable approach to writing and publishing which is to write a book in short episodes published live on the internet. 

I like this idea very much because I often get lonely and lose objectivity if I am working on a large project with little feedback over a long period. I love the prospect of having my followers, my audience, accompanying me and making me notice flaws or inconsistencies in what I’m writing as I go along.

I also love being challenged about my ideas and way of seeing human existence, so I’m really hoping you will feel free to post questions or comments. Please freely contact me and interact in this place of reflection.

Of course, the scheme and concepts for this book have been well-planned so it’s not as if I’m writing completely off the cuff. However, I anticipate that as I write, as usually happens, I will be moved in directions completely different to what I had planned once the narrative comes tumbling out of me.

So, getting this book out will be exactly like taking a long journey. There may be unexpected adventures or changes in route, but basically I think I know where we will end up.

I’ve finished packing and got all my travel accessories ready. Above me is the rocket ship we’re going to travel in! Hope you’re ready for a rocket-ship ride? Perhaps not what you had in mind.

I am also looking forward to talking directly to you, to wooing you with my view of the world. What is my motivation, I can hear you asking? Well, I am a writer/creator of many different things, but the crucial thing about my passion for the written word and for the beautiful language of English, is the challenge to touch my readers.

And it so happens that I am someone who has always had a fascination for the spiritual, the mystical, and belief in the basic goodness of human beings even though they often behave badly. That’s another thing I’m curious about. Why do people behave so badly sometimes and get so scared of life, and death? And after a lifetime of questing and tireless spiritual training, I think I’ve got some ideas about that.

So, basically I’m hoping that you can join me a couple of times a week for the next few months so I can reveal my insights to you in short easy-to-read episodes full of images, as well as get your feedback, good or bad! If you miss a visit, or are lacking in time to read me, I promise to make a little summary of the points I have made so you can easily catch up. I will put them in a special place so you can easily see them, and call them ‘travel notes.’

I like to use images to make my points clearer and to break up the text a little, but it is my intention not to clutter up this site with advertisements for other sites or works in process. I hope this TRUE NATURE site will be like a sacred corner in our lives – quiet and peaceful, a place where you can retreat from the gravitational force of life out in life. If I could, I would light a candle and burn some fragrant incense there, and open the window a crack so that the air flows nicely and we can feel the closeness of the universe and see my favourite tree and Moon plant in the garden.

So, I’ll get started and summarize what’s going to happen with each episode. You’ll soon get the swing of it. There are 5 episodes so far, so please come and visit me. Episode 1 asks, “What exactly is true nature?”

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Soul Management: not priests or nuns!

Your Lands, Stories and Songs

We don’t need to become robed priests

or wimpled nuns to feel our true nature

and the sacred! We do not need to take vows,

to strap ourselves up with symbols,

and live in a cloister accountable to our superiors.

Our humanity is our creed and

our faith combined. Each breath is an

opportunity to experience it.

Humanity is our robes and regalia,

our bible and vajra.

Our church is ‘understanding’ and listening

to others with full sincerity. It has no walls

or boundaries, and there are no rewards for

good works at any time, except one –

the sheer joy of being fully alive and

awake each moment!

We need no mediators, no clerics or shamans,

to communicate with our own true nature,

and that is the way, that is the divine.

We are the dynamic pulsing way of pure love

and compassion! Religion is…

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The role of the past!


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The past is so forceful. It pulls us away from reality like the strongest of magnets. But it is dead; a dead weight; a burden. The past belongs in works of art so that it can be re-evaluated, re-visited. So that we can cease to identify with it as a part of our ‘self.’

It liberates us and makes more space for the present, for the ‘now-and-here!’ Tibetan Sand mandalas are painstakingly created with an inner bow for each grain and then abandoned to the master artist, the weather. This creation is witnessed by the universe, the visible and the invisible.

When we create art we can be assured that we have contributed a little of our unique minds and our spirits, a little of what we consider we ‘know,’ to the universe which we can never ‘know,’ without expecting rewards or benefits. This is real freedom.

 

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After all, we cannot desire the unknown, so we can give freely to it without any attachments, any strings. Desires – the future – are repetitious and delusional; and the past has been repeated so many times that it is easy, habitual, representing no challenge whatsoever.

All the challenges lie in the present as we navigate our lives as tenants through breaths which we borrow. Our spirits are the only authentic art – formless, divine, and indestructible.

 

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Desirelessness: walking away from ‘civilization.’

I briefly lived with a tribe of Australian native people 11 hours by land cruiser south of Ayer’s Rock.  Our group went to help them to move deeper into the scorching interior of Australia in order to return to ‘traditional desert life.’  Their tribal leader, Ninija, had decided that the aging and young of her people should return to their ‘Lands,’ turning away completely form white-fella comforts and handouts.

During this adventure, my view of human life completely changed.  

The settlement we left consisted of primitive prefabricated housing and an air strip.  But not one member of the tribe lived inside the housing. Instead, they used them as a dumping ground for the heaps of material goods donated to them from white-fella do-gooders.  

White Australians have always wanted to ‘civilize’ these desert people, to make them respectable, useful to their average urban ways.

There is no such thing as a ‘gift’ to the desert dwellers and not one of the variety of items they receive is useful to their desert life: nylon dresses, leather shoes, plastic toys, kitchen equipment, tools made of metal.  They accept them and then quickly let them pass through their fingers. They are soon added to the tall heaps of detritus inside their unsuitable housing.

The day we left the settlement in our land cruisers loaded with prefabricated shade shelters to erect as the tribe walked in temperatures that most humans could never survive, Ninija and her people walked naked and barefoot.They carryied nothing except their few custom-made possessions to negotiate the harsh Lands and climate: 

Dilly bags woven from Mangrove string for their totemic badges; Wood and Grass carrying bowls (coolamon) sported on their heads, shoulders or against their bellies; custom-made digging sticks slung across their backs from ornate Kangaroo straps; beautifully crafted boomerangs for hunting; and perfectly cylindrical Hollow Log coffins containing the precious bones of their deceased.

As they slowly walked, the sheen of their black skins caught the strong sunlight and their blond and red topknots of wild hair blended in with the iron-rich ochre of the desert floor. They were joined occasionally by competing kangaroos on one side, and a massive flock of high Emus, great scratching Bird of the Lands, on the other.

They were walking away from ‘civilization,’ – known to them as ‘The Lands of Frowns and Fears,’ away from ‘safety.’ They had neither compass nor water flask.  Walkign away from health care and education; away from the culture of ‘the thinking‘ stuffed with words and ideas.  

Our ‘modern’ mobilized team followed them at some distance, kitted out in snake boots, fly-nets, clinging to our ‘possessions’ stashed away in brightly coloured waterproof rucksacks and pouches. We were highly protected by metal and glass, and cooled by powerful air-conditioning.

I have learned from these genuine custodians of the earth, that a desireless state is a truly pure and happy state.  It is ‘now’ and ‘here.’  Whereas, the future is a mirage and the past is dead. 

I have learned that time itself does not move because it is only a crude device, another delusion; instead, the only movement is of our minds

When our desires are frustrated, all of our negative emotions are generated because we cannot get our way.  In complete contrast, not having any single desire is contentment, no craving, no worries or attachments. Naked and without possessions, we can blend into the many natural realities of the universe

All desires are a mirage or like the horizon: we can never reach them because they are imaginary, a hallucination, delusional. And yet, we persist in running after such pots of gold from the desire to possess them, to drag them like magpies into our nests.

A state without desires is purity itself. If we allow them to ebb away then we do not need to reach out to gods and deities for benefits or protections

If we clear the bridge of the mind of such clutter, then we can walk straight out in the vast field of consciousness and awareness. There we can embody the divine, our original state.

Without worldly desires and clutter, we naturally embody the divine. This is our true human mission. 

Images courtesy of megapixl, etc: all licenses at lindenthorp@gmail.com

The story of Ninija and my adventures has been written as a novel called ‘Easy-Happy-Sexy: on the Twelfth Day.’ If you want to read more about desirelessness, please visit: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00UUSPLYM or watch the video trailer at: https://youtu.be/xCZ3FMGc0bs

Two Angels

 

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Dawn is an eminently suitable time for angels to leave the down of quilt and pillow, to slip away from the smooth cotton snug, to move further than just turning over.  A loving observer said that your dark red eyelids showed thousands of glow-worm lights as they flickered.  Your luminous clavicle bones trembled, widening, and your swan neck grew long.

The pale sheet bandaged around your breasts slipped allowing dark, mystic nipples oratory and your spine became a shifting spire making scarecrows beneath the sheet.  Several kisses were captive on your argent forehead, but your eyelids could not be caught.

Your keeper told you that you had had a fit, convulsion, apoplexy, petit mal, grande mal.  Gave you the precise time and duration, the clinical description, of your episode.  Stopwatch.  Jotting down notes.  A part-time biologist. You told me, toying with a description like un-relished oysters or snails, and I knew.

“I move in and out of consciousness.  It is timeless.  I am ashamed.”

As a dark-haired angel child you were never alone for the legion Sistine blue butterflies which lived in the orbs of your huge blue eyes may carry you off somewhere at any moment.  Your father held on hard to you when you blinked and walked with you into sleep until the butterfly wings were paired and still beneath the surface of your eye-lid lakes of heliotrope. Then, pale with watching, he would imagine your sleep, never knowing that your head was filled with moon-crazed creatures.

When you heard him pad away with worried steps, you would get up to let them out of the skylight in the hallway, listening for the moon.  As they dotted up into the stars, you compared the constellation in your head with that beyond the glass.

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Your life was filled with trees which you collected behind your eyes.  Eventually you had enough to plant out the pattern of stars in your head.  This tree chart which you often looked at was designed to be a forest of sound.  The breeze would rustle through many different species of leaves, and the wind would resound around the carefully positioned trunks, the excited air silvering through uncountable spruce needles, cymbaling birch leaves, tinkling the berries of rowan and holly. 

You would stare up from the ground looking through thin clouds and tree vapour, your eyes dangling azure fruit on very long stems, or sometimes a pair of errant bluebells in late summer.

Later, you would plant out your own tree garden to make a map of the world.  Moscow. Budapest. Delhi, all with the appropriate tree.  You were not daring enough to use the constellations of your childhood, but there is still time for that.

The huge shiny Bechstein piano took charge of most of your young years.  It was very difficult to get you away from its big body; your dextrous fingers constantly summoning sounds from the slim, smooth keys.  They were your white friends who carried around younger black siblings which you tolerated.

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Your intent eyes stained the manuscript with their blueness because you read on and on, hour after hour. And when your eyes began to flicker, your fingers learned to stay still while your mind extemporized blissful forays into your sound garden.  Then your fingers would go on as if nothing had happened.

Sometimes you would sit under the piano and flicker the pink and blue, and your mind would fly up into the dark vault of strings.  You would lie with your disheveled head on the sustaining pedal so that the inter-stellar hum would go on forever, or until some meddler came and insisted that you climb up on the huge leather stool with its buttoned hills and valleys to play something soothing. 

As soon as you were alone again you would climb down and yelp up into the strings, hungry for harmonics, marveling at the coarse copper of the bass notes, the triplets of wire for the treble.

You.  A listening creature.  A honeycomb of receptive cavities.  A gentle twinkle of star.  Breathing. Flickering the minute muscle screws of the membrane in your ear, tightening or loosening the skins as you pleased. Later, they wanted you to read and write about sound.  Paragraphs.  Letters.  Ruled pages.  Wanted you to turn sounds into history, morality, even to make politics out of it. 

You left the university in haste, going alone, unsafe, to flicker in the bottom of the domes of Florence.  Frescos were your cushions and clouds into which you bedded.  Your eyes always played the part of angels, sexless, weightless, circling close around the Madonnas, your fingers deftly activating spheres of coloured sound.

You left your first love behind.  A Rasputin who draped his gigantic beard across your white belly and shared his opium pipe with you.  He had travelled a little way into your world by this means but he hadn’t learned listening and how talk was only the voice playing with shadows.

You have learned to flicker at your will now, standing in the well of the Duomo, flying up into your dreams, or diving into memories if you desired. But always preferring the dark softness of Now, your senses working at full pelt.

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Then one day you thought that the coloured patterns and pitch of your messages were received. 

Far across the great dark dome in which you had been always alone, aware only of your trees and of walking again and again through huge mirrors, suddenly you saw other flickering, glistening eyes.  They were blue but darker.  Beneath the eyes, long dark fingers were operating vessels of sound, only some of which you recognized.  Above, a head was slightly bowed, intent, listening unmistaken and beautifully.

There were wisps and sibilances of a struggle for breath as the two beings realized they were no longer alone.  Their throats became blocked, crammed with sapphire spangles of tears of joy.  Only a thin trickle of air passed through which prompted strange intermittent sounds.  Breath-speech.

There were many diversions through mirrors before the two beings approached each other.  In time they held each other’s faces in long lit fingers.  Their neat hair became disheveled, blurred, and their commingled sounds were sustained into eternity.  They spluttered out colours from the octaves of their spines through the tiny trap-doors in their porcelain throats.

Dawn was an eminently suitable time for the commingling of two angels.

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images courtesy of Megapixyl.com and Mariko Kinoshita

A world truly made of Words

Valid Literature

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The dancers move.

Their bodies are words;

“stretch,” “soften,” “open.”

Arms move in phrases

the intonation of which they follow

with their eyes.

Legs move in sentences

the logic of which they feel

with their minds.

Arms and legs,

the syntax and semantics

which hook into the spine,

are constantly available to them.

A swirl of alphabet from which to make “me.”

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images courtesy of Megapixyl: clthorp59@outlook.com

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