TIMECHANGE; PRELUDE

I feel guilt…. no that's not a feeling, it's one of those four life-alienating thingies along with anger, shame and depression. Try again.

I feel…. sad when I think of others suffering. (OFNR… wait, try again.)

I am filled with bliss. I feel sad when I think of others suffering because I need liberation.

Wait. Not quite.

I am filled with bliss. I feel compassion when I think of others suffering because I value liberation.

Hmm…

I am filled with bliss and the causes of bliss. And while I sometimes have the illusion of being separated from the supreme joy that is beyond all sorrow, I also have awareness that this is never Really the case, thus even in the midst of my suffering I have awareness that it is illusory, yet if it did not seem so real, would I still have felt the catalyst to open to compassion? When the heart opens it feels…. so many things…. sometimes for the first time.

That is the nature of one level of resistance -- the resistance to feeling suffering. If I open my heart, surely that huge surging wave will just wash me over…. the energy, once felt, takes on the shape and ferocity of the infinite. Oh dear…. my ego shrieks -- that looks mighty HUGE! And it's coming straight for my heart! Is, in fact, moving through it! Yikes! All of the cultural referents I have for accounts of this sort of sensation are linked to brain responses of fight or flight / cortisol, and etc., so the experience has the potential to cause a likewise [ clamp ] right on that physical sensation. Nope -- I needed more information before I'd open up THAT gate.

Fair enough.

Before I could open my heart, I had to trust love. I had to trust, down deeper and stronger than my own bones, that love was, in fact, the answer and not just a witty metaphor before I was going to open THAT gate all the way wide. Ah, and I was convinced -- by both debate and example.

I am so filled with bliss that I have the sensation of the possibility of exploding into many pieces, repeatedly, so that I can inhabit seventeen (for a random number for today) different dimensions and write a different sentence in every one and follow that sentence as far as I am interested in seeing it go. Then, once done writing, I can neatly step back into one piece and go about my business as if only a moment…. a very richly textured moment….. has passed.

I am, it is seeming, ready to stretch time. I am learning about how to… taste the quality of time in particular moments, to feel the harmonichologram of the moment… you only need one moment to reproject all the others holographically. Time is like a particle only shinier. It flickers and reflects through the holograph of matter, gravity smiling inward, the pull of interconnectedness pulling it together toward itself, embracing, centered.

I would prefer writing blindfolded, I think, to lessen the effects of this particular light upon my serotonin production cells. I try to consciously rebalance, to keep those neurons from becoming overstimulated, but a blindfold would just be easier. Sure, the practice focusing is probably good for me, but if I just had a blindfold I could harness all that neurochemical control to attenuate on other areas I am likewise holding, at least loosely, into the big, shiny, gravitysmile that is me laughing, blissfilled, blissfulfilling.

I am sooooo shiny…. so filled with time. I am overcome with bliss just seeing myself glitter. And as I look around, we are all this way, all filled with light, all filled with shiny particles of smiling time looking at one another saying -- damn -- that sure was some drama. Can you believe we ever fell for those stories? Those selfperpetuatingloophatetapes? Wow, that sure did suck. And then you say, but wait -- there's a bunch of guys who still think the drama is real, who still care or believe in the idea of a hometeam for which to root, who believe that there are selfperpetuatingdichotomies like goodandbad goodandevil shouldandshouldnt worthandworthless deserveandnotdeserving. (I'd like to replace dichotomous thinking for 100jack!) but wait… I know some of those guys… hey wait, I *am* one of those guys.

So here's we are and here's we be, in some form or another until allwe'all get happyandshiny. I'm not leaving this party until ALL us drunkmotherfuckers soberup, rubourheads, and say -- whooo -- what happened here? Yikes! Did I throw that bear on you? Damn, sorry 'bout that. Don't know what came over me. It was this…. madness, this….. anger this….. samsara. Oh yeah -- that's right -- thus, the mess. Hey wait… I don't even remember showing up at this party -- it's like I've been here for….ever. Did I get an invitation? Surely there was a place I could have said no, could have forgone this conclusion. (heads.heads.heads.) Could have… stayed at home.

Oh, but the reasons not to are so beautiful, in the end, if you can get through the dramatic parts of the story in between. The end is sooooo…… beautiful….. that you realize it was, in fact, worth every page to get there. However, once it is over, once the end is the beginning and everyone lives happily eaverafter, then what?

Ah, yes, grasshopper….. that is written on the pages outside of the book; one must look first away from the story in order to see the Proverbial writingonthewalls. Oh it is funny, the meaning statedbutlost in the metatext.

I am learning that there are two ways to clean up messes. One involves cleaning up every little piece of it individually, and that seems… pretty overwhelming, at least to me. I am as old as beginningless time; when I look at the infinite complexity of karma I feel… awestruck… at how many pieces of it there are. Would you be willing to arrange these pieces into patterns that I can assimilate holistically instead of one at a time? That would meet my need for…. brevity. People are suffering; as they suffer, some part of me suffers withandas them. I feel… excited and energized because I have a need for…. brevity. There will be All The Time In The World once we forget about the party where everybody got into the mead that had 'gonefunny', or rather "notgonefunnyatall" but rather "gonemad." (I used to be mad, now I’m just funnyinthehead.) We are already filled with Allthetimeintheworld, so what's with my impatience?

Suffering. People are doing it. They don't have to. Some of them do not know this vital piece of information, thus the despair, the angst, the existentialnihilism (thank heavens for the pastries), the, the… SUFFERING. Suffering leads to more suffering -- if we all end suffering now, NO ONE ELSE NEED EVER SUFFER AGAIN. I mean really -- can't we all give this paradigm a try? Just for a while? The human race has been experimenting with violence and aggression as survival skills for a long damn time now, and I, as a member of the human race, would like to propose a movement that, just as an experiment, could we try, just for a while, to end violence and see what happens. If humans ever wanted to go back to violence and oppression for some reason, they would be free to do so -- it's that whole "free will" thing that we don't even give ourselves credit for.

(((Neigh! We've instead been conditioned to feel guilty for our autonomy, to deny it, to avoid it, to fear it, to be beaten away from it by some hottempered Asuric incorporeal being who was looking for a cheap ticket to hell…. oh the ultimate selfperpetuatingjackeltongue. Two jackelpuppets looking across at each other, glaring over an arena that, while large as compared to precultural homoerectus primates, is far from anything called eternity. You'll burn in hell for… as long as it takes you to figure out that you're the one keeping you there. Then, you're pretty much free to leave -- not much that can keep you there once you realize you are creating the walls from your own illusions. (Why am I here? Because I believed, for a moment, the dramadialog of twojacklepuppets -- not even real -- just characters in a story….) And you know, by the time you can do that, the metaphoricdemons are happy to see you go. In fact, as they were pretending to keep you there you, in your leaving, pointed out that they, too, were free to go anytime.)))

There is a…. construct that beings take with them from existence to existence. I don't know what it's called, but it looks like an… infinitely patterned raindrop of bluelight to me, lines like Idra'snet, points like neurons and starclusters… perfect little bundles of holography held together by the shape of gravity in whatever form in which their karma smiles. There is a way to smile -- every drop of existence has this inherent in it, that while each is unique the unconditioned whole is expressed unbroken and perfect within it. Every being has this, and every being in samsara has already, at some point, experienced suffering. If that suffering can be transformed into compassion, then might not all beings end their own suffering? Compassion, opening the heart…..

I have more information -- I requested and thus it was granted. Love. Is. The. Answer. ß