Act 1..Scene 1
Witches pose the time and place:
When the hurly-burly's done
And the battle's lost and won..
Fair/foul (fog and filthy air)
Mark appearing oppositions
And forebodings in Scene 1...
Scene 2
A bleeding Captain reports well
Of a brave Macbeth
Who overcame a doubtful clinging
As swimmers choking their art..
And brandishing steel accomplished
A valiant beheading..
We view here the planted seed of
A looming path of destruction...
Hope..
Is derived from Love..
Love appearing as hope..
And when hope falters
The appearance may end..yet
Love remains...
Quotes on Hope...
https://wisdomquotes.com/hope-quotes/
Miguel de la Torre..
Concepts..
Thoughts and perceptions expressed
Are concepts..formulations..
This finite processing of everything
From oranges to quantum theory to
Esoteric spiritual experiences
Seems to fog our Self-Recognition...
We wait for Silence to tell us that
Concepts Point to our Identity...
Delight..
A name pointing to that which
Has no name..
Appearing as trillions of forms..
To remind us of
Separation's illusion...
Delight is the secret. Learn of pure delight and thou shalt learn of 'God'. What then was the commencement of the whole matter? Existence that multiplied itself for sheer delight of being and plunged into numberless trillions of forms so that it might find itself innumerably.
~Sri Aurobindo~
Conjunction..
Some say
We are witnessing a conjunction
Named the Christmas Star..
Yet vast separation remains as
Precision eyes report:
Jupiter and Saturn seem to
Stand alone..but let us consider
Conjunction as a message
From the Star..YOU found a Shift:
Conjunction posing as separation...
"A billion stars go spinning through the night,
blazing high above your head.
But in you is the presence that will be,
when all the stars are dead."
~ Rainer Maria Rilke
Christmas Tidings..!
Beneath a story many celebrate
Of a birth beneath a star..
There lies a latch..when
Opened..will set us free..
On this celebrated night
The Truth..apparently hidden
And remaining hidden now
Was unlatched for those then
And now..
~One-being-all-there-is~
This simple news about what
Has always been..That's it..!
Christmas Tidings..!
Waiting..
We wait and watch
For a mark in time
Which will relieve the
Numbness of waiting..
Many marks appear
And re-appear..without
Rewarding a promise..
Unexpected..a footstep
Out of time..removes the
Waiting...
Our time is a time of waiting; waiting is its special destiny. And every time is a time of waiting, waiting for the breaking of eternity. All time runs forward. All time, both history and in personal life, is expectation. Time itself is waiting, waiting not for another time, but for that which is eternal.
~~Paul Tillich
The virus..
Dead and seeking
For a life-force
For a host..
Death seeking Life..
As do we
Suffering as separate
Seeking our Freedom
Dying to falsities
Resurrecting...
Coronavirus is a virus. Viruses are unusual in that they can be crystalized, just like table salt can be crystalized. So they behave like a chemical, albeit an extremely complicated chemical. You might be surprised to learn that viruses can't propagate! A virus particle enters a cell, opens up to release genetic material, in the case of Coronavirus that's m-RNA, and that genetic material is then used by the cell's ribosome to manufacture new virus particles. When there are enough of these, the cell membrane bursts, and the virus goes on to infect other cells.
What are
Those perceptions we experience
Without distance and time which
Conventional beliefs deplore..?
Ponder those astronomical wonders..
Unimaginable distances which
We perceive with awe..
Are we prepared for a Shift:
Trillions upon trillions
These numbers collapsing in our
Recognition of the nearness of
Star constellations and coffee cups..
With nearness dissolved...
Appearances..
When we discover the Reality of Appearances..we have
Awakened in our journey..The dream state of separation
Finds these same appearances as standing alone..as solid..
And convincing in their forthright presentation.. Dreaming
Separation is the backdrop of the story on which we..as
Characters..play our roles.. in days of joy and sorrow..
When the discovery is made.. the Reality of Appearances..
Who is awakened..? Our Real Self has awakened our
Real Self ..with Appearances..Now blessedly known
As fleeting..and joyous..Self-Attire...
Perception
Takes place through lenses
Which are ground based upon
Varied assumptions of
Separation..our culture is stamped
By a belief of an independent
Out-there..with separation as the
Herald of truth..but there are
More and more lenses these days
Perceiving the same out-there..yet
Knowing it as a "seeming" truth
An appearance Here and Now
With no out-there out there...
Between Oases
Are the dry patches of
Misdirecting and wanting
To find a trail to the comfort
Of the next Oasis..
The secret
Yet to be discovered by many
The weary traveler:
Pause on your trail and
Be introduced to the You
Who has never departed
One Oasis...!
The Symphony I Am..
And we are..
Each of us..
Is shaped by instruments
Of the noisy quiet world..
Our inward stage
Where the music plays
Cacophonies and arias
The clash of cymbals
And pregnant pauses..
All allowed and welcome
For their brief stay..
As we note their
Composition of the
Symphony I Am...
Miranda Warren's website: This Terrible Love..
They send me words, and little pictures of themselves light up the screen and reflect off my face in the darkness of the wee hours. Outside, the sounds of the forest hum a lullaby. The seekers that came here the past few years called this silence. How funny that seems, for I hear a symphony--- life singing in so many voices; a choir of love carried in the wind.
They want to know what they can do about something or other. Or they want to know how to escape the pain of something or other. They wonder if I have an opinion on what they say is going on. If they are not specific, I have to ask them what they think is going on.
For I am aware of no thing that is going on. Just the wind and the music of the dream of life that is playing a love song in my brain's theater of everything and nothing at all. And yet it is not a song you have to go to some retreat in the woods to hear.
The notes may vary, but I have heard this song everywhere it seems I have been. It sings in the heart of London, the remote Highlands of Scotland, the cities in flames, and the rooms where people take their final breath. It sings in the gunshots in an alley in Chicago, the labored breath of lovers after orgasm, and the cries of grief of the newly widowed. It echoes in the poignant wail of a baby's first cry, and in the quiet despair of people sitting alone in their rooms...never knowing they are not alone. It soars like an orchestra in the billions of songs of insects and birds and wildlife--- in the wilderness and the urban enclave.
It is the song of life and love that is weaving a dream undreamt, and what is going on is not any thing or event that appears to be happening in a separate place and time, for there is no place and there is no time. Nothing is happening to you and nothing is happening to me. And yet, I am you and you are me. And even that is as impossible and true and untrue as your beating heart, your heart which I hear right now, drumming a song of beauty so miraculous you would fall to the ground in tears if only you could hear the luminous music that you are...and aren't at all. ♥
~~Miranda Warren
The Social Dilemma
Attraction and attachment
Hooked and holding..
Many momentary "highs"
Of Likes..Loves..Wows..
But of short duration as
Thirst returns seeking for
More highs..finding instead
Those confining pains..
Allowing others to define
Who we are..is the basic
Sin of social media..
We are tangled in a
Hidden matrix..with many
Not locating the simple exit:
Asking the perennial questions
Perhaps..Who am I..??...
Walking and preaching
We find ourselves walking
Somewhere to meet and speak..
Speaking seems to be
Our destination..until we
Discover our speaking
Simply is a form of
Our Being..here named:
Walking...
Fairy Tales..
Fairy tales ride
On the feathers of time..
The feathers fall
Revealing the wisp of time..
Rendering the sky
Not-ending and open
For new tales arising
And feathers falling...
Everything perceived and thought to be known is an illusion constructed by the mind, a fairy tale world of beings and things that are not beings and things at all. The quantum physicists and the neuroscientists and the nonduality speakers all tell me this, yet they are also illusions. They speak and my mind dances with them, and then they vanish into thin air, their enigmatic smiles lingering a moment like the Cheshire cat, and I run to the mirror and what do I see….?
An imagined Miranda, invented by no one, a fictional character, who one day in an imagined past saw that everything seemed to be a dream I could not remember from moment to moment. It felt as if some strange surreal world was being invented each instant, but I could not find the flow of time. It was beyond disorienting, for I couldn't even locate the center of it all, and yet these made up people and a make believe world appeared.
I was one of the fairy tale characters, and it was always clear it was not my dream. And maybe that world stopped spinning, or really it was like getting on a moving carousel and finding your seat on the merry-go-round horse, and the lights and colors and names of people places and things, the noun-known world, was so clearly a fantasy---I couldn't even say it came from my brain or have any idea from what or how or why....
Yet all these appearances, even now a panorama of seamless perception containing the illusion of separation, seem to happen, and somehow it seems as if there is wine and a glass and a hand reaching out and then drinking, and yet there is nothing at all. Only an unfathomable, ineffable, inexplicable fairy tale fantasy love story that is not even that, or this, or any thing imagined or unimagined at all ❤
~~Miranda Warren
Journeys are dreams..
Here to there
Marks on a map..
These arguments for
Our seeming journeys..
Of journeys past and
Cruises in planning
Journeys we know..yet
In this lockdown interlude
We might discover
All of these journeys
As simply dreams
Of the Ocean I am...
