eeking aching onlyness of i am not who i think i am

[Guest guest]

man it's like sand drifting along some shore that seems endless,

foggy and frazzled and fainting seems possible, but yet, but still,

the writer weaves up to the keyboard all wobbly all washed-out

to walk a fine line between what it is and what i want it to be.

 

heated and glistening with beads of such bona fide bantering from here,

i hear a voice very clearly saying clearly to build the nest with original,

with self-stripped twigs of inquiry and investigation and under i go i go,

under i go in this fall-like mist of illness and ickey aching assumed as me in these bones.

 

before, i always borrowed the words and wisdom of others to buoy up my poems.

boy was i afraid of being laughed at or ridiculed or made out as ignorant of advaita,

but the way things are going i am assured that that fact is already done and moved on.

i might be a bozo or buddha or a beggar for Love, but above and beyond all that, I Am.

 

ahhh, i rest in the quest already being conquered and i am but the concubine of inquiry.

i put out to this putting it all on the table and labelless i see inside the fable of mazie.

so feeble, i am fairly certain these words will just scatter and shatter and it will not matter

if i say this or display this or play as if i never said a word about anything ever again.

 

i'm speaking from fritz and falling into the tunnel and endurance and doing nothing, really.

i don't know what prompts these rantings and pantings and pressing my Heart into God,

but whatever preformance is perchance the palm being upturned and extended to friends,

i only blather when the froth is foaming from a mouth of a maniac for

Love, lost in being lived.

 

the leaping fire of fana is fiercely fanning out in all directions of

the directionless draw of this -

i wanna give it all to giving up everything and getting it all as gate

gate and going into this can't.

i can't get God by wanting anything, even the wanting of not wanting to want anything at all.

i wonder why the sky is so bright with the possibility of all pretense

of persona going poof?

 

 

LoveAlways,

 

Mazie

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[Guest guest]

Wow. You are right, except in one place, and there you are utterly wrong...where you write:

"...so feeble, i am fairly certain these words will just scatter and

shatter and it will not matter if i say this or display this or play

as if i never said a word about anything ever again..."

 

These words have scattered themselves into me and shattered another

wall of me... And it matters very much that you said them and shared

them... I Am, too, afterall.

 

love,

joyce

 

"Mazie Lane" <sraddha54@h...> Thu Mar 13, 2003 10:58

am eeking aching onlyness of i am not who i think i am

man it's like sand drifting along some shore that seems endless,

foggy and frazzled and fainting seems possible, but yet, but still,

the writer weaves up to the keyboard all wobbly all washed-out

to walk a fine line between what it is and what i want it to be.

 

heated and glistening with beads of such bona fide bantering from here,

i hear a voice very clearly saying clearly to build the nest with original,

with self-stripped twigs of inquiry and investigation and under i go i go,

under i go in this fall-like mist of illness and ickey aching assumed as me in these bones.

 

before, i always borrowed the words and wisdom of others to buoy up my poems.

boy was i afraid of being laughed at or ridiculed or made out as ignorant of advaita,

but the way things are going i am assured that that fact is already done and moved on.

i might be a bozo or buddha or a beggar for Love, but above and beyond all that, I Am.

 

ahhh, i rest in the quest already being conquered and i am but the concubine of inquiry.

i put out to this putting it all on the table and labelless i see inside the fable of mazie.

so feeble, i am fairly certain these words will just scatter and shatter and it will not matter

if i say this or display this or play as if i never said a word about anything ever again.

 

i'm speaking from fritz and falling into the tunnel and endurance and doing nothing, really.

i don't know what prompts these rantings and pantings and pressing my Heart into God,

but whatever preformance is perchance the palm being upturned and extended to friends,

i only blather when the froth is foaming from a mouth of a maniac for

Love, lost in being lived.

 

the leaping fire of fana is fiercely fanning out in all directions of

the directionless draw of this -

i wanna give it all to giving up everything and getting it all as gate

gate and going into this can't.

i can't get God by wanting anything, even the wanting of not wanting to want anything at all.

i wonder why the sky is so bright with the possibility of all pretense

of persona going poof?

 

 

LoveAlways,

 

Mazie

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[Guest guest]

, "Mazie Lane" <sraddha54@h...>

wrote:

>man it's like sand drifting along some shore that seems endless,

foggy and frazzled and fainting seems possible, but yet, but still,

the writer weaves up to the keyboard all wobbly all washed-out

to walk a fine line between what it is and what i want it to be.

 

heated and glistening with beads of such bona fide bantering from

here,

i hear a voice very clearly saying clearly to build the nest with

original,

with self-stripped twigs of inquiry and investigation and under i go

i go,

under i go in this fall-like mist of illness and ickey aching assumed

as me in these bones.

 

before, i always borrowed the words and wisdom of others to buoy up

my poems.

boy was i afraid of being laughed at or ridiculed or made out as

ignorant of advaita,

but the way things are going i am assured that that fact is already

done and moved on.

i might be a bozo or buddha or a beggar for Love, but above and

beyond all that, I Am.

 

ahhh, i rest in the quest already being conquered and i am but the

concubine of inquiry.

i put out to this putting it all on the table and labelless i see

inside the fable of mazie.

so feeble, i am fairly certain these words will just scatter and

shatter and it will not matter

if i say this or display this or play as if i never said a word about

anything ever again.

 

i'm speaking from fritz and falling into the tunnel and endurance and

doing nothing, really.

i don't know what prompts these rantings and pantings and pressing my

Heart into God,

but whatever preformance is perchance the palm being upturned and

extended to friends,

i only blather when the froth is foaming from a mouth of a maniac for

Love, lost in being lived.

 

the leaping fire of fana is fiercely fanning out in all directions of

the directionless draw of this -

i wanna give it all to giving up everything and getting it all as

gate gate and going into this can't.

i can't get God by wanting anything, even the wanting of not wanting

to want anything at all.

i wonder why the sky is so bright with the possibility of all

pretense of persona going poof?

 

 

LoveAlways,

 

Mazie

 

---------

 

Thanks Mazie.

 

Your prose brought back my day to me vividly. In my life, I have

always watched people pull away from me and I have wondered why. A

few years ago I discovered I am an arrogant and deceptive person.

People pull away and get mad for a reason. I don't tell people what

I feel a lot so I am deceptive. I try to point out my superiority

very often in different ways so i am arrogant. People don't like

this and pull away.

 

I have sometimes wondered what to do about this. I do these things

because they entertain me and this seems very ingrained.

 

All these things are reactions to the personality trait of my feeling

that I am special. So I act like I am special. A lot of my thoughts

are about the feeling that I am special. I can tease someone and

they are supposed to know I am kidding. But the tease is designed in

a way to show some talent of mine, mimicry, humor, or deduction in

some arenas. I am a show off but it puts people down usually.

 

Today I had a gut reaction to seeing myself this way. I was

disgusted by these tendencies. Patanjali says to set up tendencies

to counteract traits that block one.

 

My idea was that I would remember to feel distaste for these ideas

when they come up instead of my usual feelings that they are in some

way a good thing to do, funny or smart or entertaining. Then i would

see them as ego boosters and would feel like I would be better off

without indulging in them. In a way it is just realizing something

about myself that needs to change and knowing that in time it will.

 

I dwelt on this in a very powerful way for several hours this

afternoon but the strange thing was I forgot about it entirely until

a few moments ago when i read your post.

 

Love

Bobby G.