Omniscience

24Nov09

He sees

Deeper than

You and

I

(What God

Gazes

Upon,

He sees

In it

The promise

Of divinity)


Mandala Dream

19Nov09
Mandala Dream

Mandala Dream


I met her, if met is really the word, crossing the street, leaving library park heading north. I had just left the library, mostly to use the rest room, and was on a mission to find at least one new book to read, something I was doing as a celebration.

The reason I celebrating was that a dreaded meeting had gone well, without the acrimony that had sometimes ensued in my meetings with her. “Her” is not the person I met at the corner, but the person I had with whom I had the meeting, a meeting arranged this morning by text message; “Sorry im a pest can i see u today? l2.30 frankies or library?”

I had opted for Frankie’s, a local coffee house, and we talked our talk and listened our listen over coffee and a soda and parted friends, a huge relief.

This is not the chance encounter, this was planned, and I’ll talk no more of what was said and maybe decided.

Let me start again.

I met her, if met is really the word, crossing the street, leaving library park heading north. I had just left the library, mostly to use the rest room and was on a mission to find at least one new book to read in the book store two blocks away.

She was standing at the corner there as I approached the corner, waiting for the light. She was a short squat middle age Hispanic women and I a tall, skinny, pale white man whose smile is gapped by four missing teeth, the result of a pavement dive last year when I unexpectedly lost consciousness.

She turned towards me in welcome, smiled, and offered an unasked explanation for her wait at the corner. “I always wait for the green signal, so I don’t get a ticket”; Her voice has an subtle childlike quality.

The onus of conversation now on me, I offered her the true fact that “I was crossing the street at Stop sign once, and someone hit me.”

Looking up, I noticed that the walk signal now showed the green lit icon of a walking man and I started across the street and she fell into step beside me.

She continued the conversation as we walked across the street in lock step; “If I ever get hit I hope I die.” I wait silently as she continues “I get so depressed.”

I remain silently attendant and so she fills the vacuum; “My mother says that means I’m going to live,” immediately adding “If you want to die, you live.”

© B. W. Reed (November 18th, 2009)


Reminders #19

18Nov09

Offered here is a short list of reminders to myself, a work of personal healing, but it is also offered as a work of transmission. I dedicate, with love, these Reminders to all who find them useful. May it help you create some peace in your life and the lives of others!

It doesn’t have to make sense. For thousands of years philosophers have endlessly ruminated, trying to find the “definitive solution” of the “Liar Paradox.” In a modern version, a man sends a Text Message to you that says “This message is a lie.” If his message is true, then it is false; if his message is false, then it is true. Which Is it, true or false? How much argument could have been saved had these philosophers just stopped thinking, realizing that “it just don’t make sense” just because it can be said and, “dropping the nut,” had gone home to bed to sleep off their troubling ruminations! How like many of our daily problems!

Because
I need to be reminded,
I remind others.


See, No Phobia!

See, No Phobia


The Story is where we’ve been, the Dream is where we’re going and the Moment is now; Don’t let the Story rob you of the Dream or the Moment.


I have always been attracted to solipsism, the philosophy that I alone exist in the world and that all others are a figment of my imagination. If this be true then I am a masochist … and also a sadist.


Play the game for them, and they play for just one game; teach them how to play the game, and they play forever.


Fountains of Creation

Fountains of Creation


It is a horrible moment, that moment when, after watching them grow up from syllables, you turn your words loose to fly, wondering if they will visit you afterwards, or maybe drop you a line.

What Was I Thinking?

What Was I Thinking?

(c) B. W. Reed (10/30/2009)