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    Heart of the matter

    • Jul 20, 2017
    • 1 min read

    The heart of the matter

    Today i feel the stretch of the apparent disconnect between heart and head/mind.

    In the new age movement we talk a lot about living from the heart, and i am inclined to agree, and, it's very difficult, well at least for me.

    I understand the theory and knowledge behind the thought, and i still find it very difficult, as i believe it requires tuning into ones self in a way that is fitting to embodying a deep level of sensitivity and a propensity for slowing down, to really feel the right movements for the soul.

    Living in today's world where speed and effectiveness are rated high on the human profile of an industrious person , sensitivity gets easily neglected.

    It is in my opinion very difficult to stay open to 'the flow of life' = (people, reactions, emotions, stress, cars, traffic, noise, machines, intense pollutions, etc), and breath in and remain present and attuned to oneself.

    i offer no remedy as i really struggle with this balance myself. Living in a system that seems bent on forcing we humans into desensitising, and morphing into being more like robots than attuned to natural living is deeply stressful for our nervous systems; and obviously it depends on what we do, how we live, where and our work orientation, but still, if you look around you, in todays world, can you really say this is what you always wanted?.

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    Bare Bones

    Killer angel. 

    By sheer fluke it came 

    smashing through piles of oranges

    belly wide open, teasing eyes

    lick of life

    How to interpret these signals 

    a projection or

    electricty ?

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    i want you to want me 

    long standing love

    overriden by desire 

    let me go

    so i can savour this fall.

    Mind fear

    Sometimes it is all too much;

    lightening thoughts, igniting reactive responses.

    Fear and paranoia.

    Slowing down the vain monster.

    Take that breath underwater,,,

    release the last curl of wet thought.

    To heal, means to feel the suffering.

    To heal, means to feel.

    The other way is neurotic;

    in constant dread and fear.

    It chases you, haunts and plagues you.

    Like a virus, dormant at times active when triggered.

    Cloud

    Quieten your words, please!

    softness only.

    Realisations of the impermanence of it all.

    And there she is again, showing me, floating, moving enveloping the mass of everything.

    Dressed like a hag, with a twinkle of wisdom.

    Perception is a wide open smile.

    life is this mirror....

    turning inwards, towards.

    I lay bare bones scattered on rainbow coloured mountains.

    Ugly duckling

    You clipped my wings 

    i tore at my flesh

    You put me down

    i created self loathing

    You criticised me 

    i wanted to kill myself

    You ridiculed me

    i began to lie

    You shamed me

    i died

    My father,

    the root of it all.

    The fear of opening

    The gift of poison.

    Finally i have the cure.

    Antidote to reason

    all things endure.

    shedding is paramount

    shaking to my core.

    Wide open water

    together we are more.

    Tell me again,

    'that you wanted me to feel safe...."

    Beating butterfly heart;

    bird song, carry me away

    into the night, across the day,

    Stars come, light up my way

    for this whole everything.

    And then i dared to fall,

    speaking the unspeakable,

    I named my truth, coined my tongue

    into tangible matter, and then

    they fell out, spilling everywhere.

    Ha, the mess!

    the shame!

    what a thing to behold, together,

    seated on the lawns of heaven.

    Petal by petal she unfolded. The bud set free held with the tenderest of hands.

    Here she rested.

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    Dualism at the core.

    A felt sense beyond thought waves, interpretation.

    A perceived reality. Scotoma.

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    What is left but empty space waiting to be filled.

    Beyond static, everything moving, forever changing.

    The relationship to it is matter of thought.

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    A shattered, fragmented vessel carrying my essence beyond self.

    Am i broken?

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    then i am not, this.

    Rather I am static peace.  Defined slightly differently

    Oh beauteous suffering, in the presence of this now.

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