Sometimes it's just a whisper.

Sometimes it's a scream.

Sometimes, like now, it's the (now muted) thunder of a distant locomotive, approaching slowly, inexorably, its inevitable arrival announced by a disharmonic crescendo of anxiety and heightening awareness.

The global psyche seems fractured, schizophrenic.

Oil dependence.
Greed.
A poorly veiled dictatorship herding a fooled and numb populace into the breeding pen/slaughterhouse.
Comfort zones, well dressed yet smelling of desperation, escapism, an unwillingness to deal.
Global warming.
Applied violence as a solution.
Symptomatic treatments.
Ego driven relationships.
Miscommunication.

It seems to me that it should be an echo of the sound of the world, Gaia's symphony, a harmonic reverberation of the cosmic vibration.
Instead, it is the shriek of a blind and desparate creature in its death throes, muffled by doublespeak, Hollywood and hedonism.

It's easier to turn away, to find solace in momentary distraction and wish fulfillment.
It's easier to ignore entropy, to be complacent in the face of consequence.
It's easier to die, unaware, than to deal with the pain of living with a global hangover due to centuries of uninformed decadence.

Tesla warned us.
Einstein was right to be troubled.
"A maniac with a lot of knowledge is a threat."

Information is raw data.
Knowledge is awareness of that data.
Wisdom is knowing what to do with it.
You hear it said "Two out of three ain't bad."
In this case, it's the worst thing possible.

Lying in bed at night,
hearing the train's determined passage on the tracks,
I am sometimes overwhelmed by the sheer amount of energy required to throw the switch,
by collective ennui and by the passive resistance to that action,
knowing that knowledge of the action alone is paltry,
and that only applied wisdom can effect anything,
and that I, as one person alone,
am as useless trying to throw that switch
as an ant is trying to keep a boulder from rolling over its hill.

In the face of imminent catastrophic change,
what am(are) I(you) willing to sacrifice
to ensure the survival of the human form,
of this current reality,
of the Gaian Organism?

Pronouns are useless sometimes...

Try to describe your relationship to the multidimensional dynamic evolving being that is the Godhead without using pronouns. And don't even use the words "part" or "fragment" because those both imply breaking and distance. Try "Facet" "Aspect" "Integral" instead.

Infinitesimal, yes. Important, also yes. Irreplacable.

The one thing I like about the Pledge of Allegiance is the word Indivisible.

It's impossible to be divided from that which dwells both within you and without you, omnipresent and constant. Like Heraclitus says, there is nothing constant but change, but with the proper perspective, all change is a constant. Objectify your perspective, remove it from the linear construct of time's movement, realize that time is a dimension of reality and can be viewed as a totality, and you can see that totality as a whole, instead of an inexorable process of change.

There is a scintillant crystal that represents our passage through consciousness, our collective experience from Eve's bite to the end of time, and that is the Godhead's self-realized being. While we may be a dauntingly tiny piece of that, we ARE a piece of that. All our choices, all of our self directed willful decisions are known outside of our limited perspective of time's linear march and are an integral piece of the greater Realization.

The totality of existence is real, has existed, is existing and will exist. We have choice, and the world is shaped by that choice. But the shape that these choices make already exists outside of time.

A few thought exercises:

Instead of the wind moving the trees, perhaps the movement of the trees pushes the air into motion, creating wind.

Instead of us walking on top of the earth, we walk on the bottom of the sky.

Dinosaurs and dragons didn't become extinct; they just hid in birds and cats respectively.

I babble on.

tick tock & time stops, i feel my life slide by,
a rush of hopes brushes into memories
that doppler off into my past
growing murky with red shift swiftness.
catching moments in my mind
like spearfishing,
impaling quicksilver flashing events
on a slippery shaft of recollection,
oft thrown astray by my muddled mortal aim -
how the river often rages!
that i scarcely realize what is before me
until it is beyond
& i scrabble to fix its image in my mind
before it is dissolved by time & chaos
to recycle into my future,
following cosmic circles to resurface
with a new face.

the earth in me,
capricorn -
cries out for solid footing,
surety in a sliding realm of uncertainty;
i receive solace from my
mercurial scorpio,
rising in front of me to shape my earth,
force of erosion & molding,
comfort that change is necessary
in such times of chaos.

(from a post i made on iSciFi.com, Flash Fiction, where you are given a certain amount of words to write, a phrase to include, and a theme. For this one, the theme is reincarnation, the word limit 500 and the phrase: LUCKY SUSHI)

CHOOSE, MY LOVE

Midnight at a health food store, closing time. Young people are milling about, counting their cash drawers, baling old produce for compost, sweeping the aisles. We float over stacks of soap and supplements, heading toward the back of the store, ducking between displays of Whole Food Health magazines and rose water tinctures, heading through a pair of double doors that oscillate in our wake, clok clok clok.
Past the doors to a walk-in, over the heads of employees breaking down and stacking cardboard boxes, crates.
We slow down and center our focus on a pair of figures, one young, healthy and male, the other an older, somewhat bedraggled woman clad in rags and filth. We can hear them speak.
“You know you’re lucky. Sushi’s not normally free.” The young man’s voice is strong and clear, holding a strange mixture of compassion and disgust.
The woman accepts a rectangular plastic package from him. We can see small oblong pink shapes inside, a packet of soy, some ginger. The woman gratefully accepts it from him, mutters her thanks, departs.
Which do you choose, my love? We died in each other’s arms, and against the whirling storm of chaos managed to hold each other. The people here in the store are still unaware of the accident just outside their store that severed our mortal bonds, and here we must choose from what is offered before we are called into our karmic paths. We are lucky to have escaped, you know.
I love you.
Shall we take this pair, knowing that at least in this moment, once in their lives, they meet? Is there any other way to guarantee that I will see you yet again?
So which do you choose?
No, I won’t allow that. Look, this young man has a vibrant life, and health. She’s on the streets, sick. You must take him, fly back to his birth, claim his body, claim his life.
I give him to you.
This is my gift, his health, his strength.
I can manage living her life, knowing that I will see you again.
I don’t know that I’ll remember this life, but a part of me will remember my love for you and that will keep me strong against anything her life throws in my way.
I’ll follow her back, back through the twisting trails of time to her embryonic beginnings and further, back into the swirl of chaos.
We can choose.
Our love is strong.
I must see you again, my love.
I must.