death, rebirth, and glass houses…

it’s turquoise or red.  back and forth…

my mind is a blurry picture, with jumps up from a quick whale, flashing its tale to the onlookers with cameras, captivated by appearances…

wishing for quiet and nothingness so hard, that the city feels like a scar.  it’s not. hello story.  (the story always wants to take the show.)

feelings underneath, red and turquoise.  hot desire, bright truth, hot desire, bright truth…are they touching each other yet?

one was punching the other in a dream i had, where siamese men where joined at the crotch, facing one another, walking, and the one being punched could not defend himself, just kept taking it.  i was watching, horrified.  upon pulling cards, i discovered two masculine aspects coursing through me.  (my saturn in gemini.)  one head wants recognition, success, money, power.  the other head is always healing, the eternal gentle shaman.

guess whose doing the punching?

red hot desire.  turquoise truth…

it’s time for both heads of this being to vanish and for saturn to be reborn.  karma reborn.  let go of healing.  there is nothing to heal.  let of striving, no matter how strong the appeal.  both heads confess their distress.  both heads die trying.  i build a grave for them in the winter soil of this psyche.  fill it with thanks, pour black coffee over the grave and seal it with a piece of blue lace agate.

keep emulating the one you are devoted to, streaming through the man who reflects true success.  surrender.  letting go of both capricorn pentacles ambition, and cancer care taking.  (north node capricorn, twelfth house, spiritual mountain climbing.)   giving myself to spirit completely.  it’s not a fancy as this sounds, being that everything is spirit.  nothing is not spirit.

the adjustment of this giving, is in the action, not the thing.  it’s in devoting and in the loving…

spirit is life containing multitudes, faceting like a crystal carved by mysterious hands, pulling infinite light through it, casting colorful forms into the shadows.  we are the shadows, we are the light, we are the crystal, we are the mysterious hand, we are the colorful forms…we are all of it…

there’s been snot coming out of the nose.  fatigue of muscle and bone.  getting to the mat is like getting on the throne.  sometimes uncomfortable to the screaming beast, but once surrendered, a thing that feels the best…

heart: a child’s handful of  jumping jacks thrown onto cement in the city, mirages in the desert had by the thirsty…every feeling and no feeling passing through, dancing, singing, leaving.

you might expect nonsense to continue.  how else is life made new?  growth spurts happen in two directions…creation and destruction…

sun is woman and man is moon, in this tale.  he cycles through his modes and moods, while she remains a constant light, shining, until night, when she slips into the black night gown with stars on it and finds him full, crescent, or new over her heart…

part two: billy joel’s “glass houses” is playing.  it’s the birthday of the anchor of this cafe.  everyone is celebrating.  i had no idea.  decided to meet a friend to write and wound up on the outskirts of a party.  we both love this album.  recalled the cover, of the camera on the ground, facing up, pointed at a man about to throw a rock at a glass house.  she said we could write about glass houses.  so here it goes…

desire is to be a creature, the objects of desire are glass houses.  desire is red and the objects of desire are turquoise.  desire and truth.  wanting what is made of glass, wanting impermanence, fragility, beauty, illusion.  wanting what can be destroyed with a stone.  not that truth can be destroyed by a stone…but that truth is destroying a glass house with a stone, proving it to be glass.  eyes that don’t see truth think the house is made of gold, solid, forever to own.  there are walks into never ending sunsets in those eyes…

and yet this delusion is also truth.  for when you attempt to inject the external temporary physical world with the eternal limitless spirit world, you get cool shit too.

so long as you know the house of made of glass, and there is nothing one can own…