Turn off your mind, relax and float, downstream, it is not dying…but listen to the color of your dreams.
But, what if these don’t match?
Who out there will give me advice on this Sabbath day of holy LOVE, of….?
Do something brave, so here I will go with what has got me tied in knots, this relationship with the void in man form, garden of Eden, banished into the thicket, and really when there aren’t we all alone?
Puncture weeds we called them, the ones that stopped our ten speed tires dead in the hot sand, miles we had to walk back pushing a good-for-nothing frame.
Well, he is the one who likes only the desserts, the plum cobbler’s and he is a gobbler as the German woman pointed out--not so bad in all scenario’s she’d pointed out with a written wink and a grin. But I feel he’s a snake, the cigarette’s I finally gave up again this spring, that last one I’d held onto to smoke out the demons of loneliness. Yes, only one a day for quite some time. I’d followed the advice and played within a Vesica pisces I created out of all white rocks on the hidden bank of the blue-green Navarro River, smoking and lying and crying into each circle, being stretched and as much as possible remaining non-judgmental of myself, but praying, giving in action-stance a chance for some hand of God to set me straight, a third to enter my consciousness, create a holy round in the split.
I did bury the butt.
Now, I must ask myself is he like those American Spirit’s? Something that feels so good to inhale, but creates bad-at-night anxiety dreams when my inner spirit reigns, all parts conferring, no more!
That is what happened last night in my dream of the King who took me into a crowded restaurant room, bought bottles of champagne, opened and poured many, but this was no celebration of light, he was bringing me there (though I am also observer) to publically break my heart? Later, I am walking, quite able, on my own heels, out of doors, towards a sunny and glistening pool.
Live for the day in fountains and joy, that is the soul of life and liberty, he writes me, drop the drudgery of cross bearing past pain and then cherish the good and reject the bad, in present time,...tout est grace, he continues. Asks me to come to his mat and we will read to one another. No doubt he’ll kiss my feet.
So, in sum, enjoy one another in present tense only? Sounds very carnal, very hippy, perhaps Luciferic? This is where our greatest differences seem to lie. I am quite conventional and Masonic in my overall viewpoints (moral initiations) and though neither seems right in totality, I fear dropping my cross burden knowing it is a tool, ladder, pointer, stretcher of light, a universal map. I see the degrees of universe and multiple lives, not just single days, though I have appreciated the rest, the Sabbath's in these drifting downstream floats, still, all of God's days are sacred...
Help me! What is LOVE and what is temptation?
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