Nice.
But all I had to do is get control of my emotions, and restructure the way I think.
Or is that, “unstructure” how I think?
It just seems too easy. Like a sneeze I’ve been needing, or a joke that finally hit me!
Suffering’s joy now, and all that! :heaven:
Alan
Congrats on the sneeze! Few get that. If you tease out what happened in the sneeze in slomo and dissect what is implied by the re/un/structuring (you am in either case, it’s a famous “both/and”) resulting from “getting in control of (your) emotions,” you might have a cognitive line from the Source of your ability to do that to how you are enjoying the manifestation. But hey, don’t bother chatting about it with anyone who isn’t wiping their nose, eh? They have to get the punch line on their own. It is so experiential that it has no meaning even if handed to a pre-sneezer on a gold platter. It is, as you know, that radical. And I hope anyone not wiping their nose looks up “radical” and its etymology.
Here is a poem about “suffering joy now”:
We, Who Witness the Heart
*
We, who witness the Heart, are naked, walking
Bemused through countless avenues of feeling.
We are tracked by the stares of those who hide,
Cowering, not daring to look inside
The deep blue shade that’s caused, somehow,
By living anywhere but Now.
*
We wander with purpose, undermining
All the ordinary lack of meaning
Of the prosaic run-of-the mill man
Or woman who scrambles to sense what they can
Through the anesthetic layers of culture
Fed to them by any corporate vulture
Who can grab their hungry attention and stuff
Into their minds froth and pale commercial fluff.
*
You and I have met here serendipitously,
Not looking for each other, but consciously
Knowing that the Universe is not so unkind
As to prevent any true Seeker from the Find
Of this lifetime—or the string of them all—
That would burst them through this world’s sensory wall
Into the Freedom that can send one flying, reeling,
Into the realms of heartfelt feeling.
*
Here I truly, squarely stand
Stretching forth this trembling hand
Holding out an olive branch
That is very nearly wrenched
From incoherent fingers
By a shaking that won’t stanch
A feeling that still lingers.
*
My cheeks are drenched
Weeping, sobbing, belly laughing,
Through the blissful pain of Being.
Laughing through the pain I feel,
Knowing only Now is Real,
I extend my hand to you,
Trusting you can feel this, too.