Sunday, April 17, 2011

Part III: The Trapeze




The screams of discord, dissent, and disagreement shout so loudly that I retreat to a more pleasing, harmonious blend of soft arrangements. Arrangements that congenially welcome easy, attuned rapport with oneself. Euphonic exchanges ease delivery and manner of enunciation, words flow, sentiments soar. Dulcet accordance envelops. Hostilities disband. Sufferings quieten. There is a pause. And in that pause, the gates between us unfasten. A singular cobblestone pathway appears, and when you stand in the middle of it, somehow, all your thought pathways stem from the same origin, namely, the “I”. 

Like the Arc de Triomphe, each thought, scientific, spiritual, physical, anecdotal, all have equality and unity in the fact they originate from the same source. Disparaging concepts cooperate by nature. Their trajectory identical, irrespective of their direction. Polyphonically exploding simultaneously with a continuous flow that is self-perpetuated, continually reproducing itself over and over again. 




This experience expands. Truth is everywhere and yet, nowhere specifically held. I am indebted to record the sentiments and thoughts as they appear. Only here do I not forsake myself. I may wish to withheld attribution, but that too is an example of an attribute of preference. The covenant is the allowance for attribution. The mere act illuminates the arbitrary imperative. In that peremptory obedience, that insistence of immediate attention, we recognize the fullness of choice. It is in that choice that a seemingly logical notion whispers, yielding an ear toward its appeal. 



We are that which we seek. Irrespective of what we choose, our choice matters in how we choose it. Behind the construct is a taste of splendid commentary. Voluminous, interchangeable concentrations of palimpsests whereby only our inclinations serve as the visible traces of an earlier form.  

This release from the error of sensible conclusions allows for expanded authenticity despite its form or present actuality. Certitude of principle withdraws and is filled with an abounding exploration of distinct possibilities. Relinquishing our grasp on the boundary of judgment, we release ourselves from our chosen course and delve into pure potentiality. A humble quietude casts us center stage and we stand before an audience bare with only our inherent attributes to convey, demonstrate, and evince what we dare not reveal to ourselves; that from nothing comes something. 
The feeling of having to accept rather than enjoy abounds and is ever present in the most trifle of actions, deeds, and thoughts of humankind. We’re the electricity that illuminates the cave and in doing so, we are the choosers of that which we see and seek. The flummery that society dictates is a mere bagatelle for the self. Diminutive in nature, these tokens of reality aimed toward encompassing a whole cannot serve such immensity as existence. Any attempt to do so reduces a mammoth to a mere molecular state, describing nothing more than component particles that cease to be without the connections that yield their present product. 



Each energie strand simultaneously exists in a land of Brobdingnagian proportions looking back at itself from a colossal state of being; where the ruling monarchy, based on its own reason, turns against itself. Not recognizing our Lilliput ancestry, we reject that from wince we came. As in Gulliver’s Travels, we appear before ourselves in the most unlikely geographical location. 

We are ignited by a desire to return. Yet, the trajectory from where we now travel is from a different point. Irrespective of traveling toward an origin, it is still a direction. The only way to travel to the origin would be to recognize its innate position within as a starting point. Each direction is representative of it. That’s the paradox. And not one easily followed or integrated, even for the most earnest of seekers. 

Every speck of energie commands a pathway traveled by local nobility. Each notion we accept become our troops whose forces liberally populate and accentuate the journey. Despite the civil litigations encountered, internal and external, we make decrees from our seaside palace set in an ocean of existence. In perceiving our ego as a local nobility of sorts, we are blown away by own flair for sumptuous resplendence. Traveling along a thousand miles of richly colorful and artistic dexterity, our abilities sway to and from, whether we take to the trapeze or not. Performing a wide range of reason, we balance, drop, and hang suspended in our beliefs. With grace and style, the bars of belief support us in the momentum of our executed thoughts. Throwing ourselves to the highest peaks, catching our balance at the far end of a swing, and then repeating maneuvers Jules Léotard would deem inspiring, we dare to dream, destined to land fully suspended until momentum carries us again. 

I want to land in a place where I can see without judging. Where my voice refuses to define. Where my vision is not clouded by astute rhetoric and sharp-witted narrow mindedness. Where I can become a percipient viewer of life unfolding in its phenomenal splendor. 

Freely swinging from the trapeze of clemency; I soar, closing link after link, traveling along a chain where nature promises to be itself. 



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