To: K-list
Recieved: 2001/05/19 22:49
Subject: Re: [K-list] The Humility of Self Consumption
From: Pepper J. Baxter
On 2001/05/19 22:49, Pepper J. Baxter posted thus to the K-list:
Hi J.,
I get the feeling at times that God is done with me and I'm out of the race.
That's usually when K hasn't risen for some time very noticably, or even at
all. Yet when it does rise I wish God would pick on someone else better
qualified to withstand all I go through. Pepper
J. Robbins wrote:
> To One And All,
> Would that I could be, honest to the core of my being. To describe
> to you who reads this essay, what its like to be the not-you which is
> me. I am not thee. We mirror each other out of synch, so we cannot be
> the one and the same. Even while yet we may be, separate parts of one
> same whole. Opposite each other, in an exchange of wavering
> sensations, we co-vibrate in a sequence of nows. Each like a
> membrane of exquisite and fine thinness, we move in a dance of
> consequence. In the embrace of coincidence we are caressed by
> Divine Intent. We are making love, for in each instant of time we are
> seeking to enhance each others pleasure, we are seeking to lighten
> the intensity of each others pain.
> I gather jewels as I journey down what very well may be, a last
> path of doom. I am lost in a world made of Tarot Card Images. I am a
> fool adrift in a little canoe, riding a wave of chance. Divine or of
> the devil, my miracles are constant and forthcoming. I am in the
> grips of the power from beyond. I realize with breathless
> anticipation that I am witnessing a quality of Magic, A miracle of a
> story is the very life I am living. There is an inexplicable
> connection between the intent in my mind and the events around me.
> Things happen more and more frequently which demonstrate a quality of
> mind over matter, this in an ever increasing display of the
> impossible. Coincidental events jump off the walls of common sense,
> and the walls come tumbling down.
> Yet even as miracles of serendipity jump like fiery monkeys from the
> edge of my fingertips, the results are never quite what I bargain
> for. My intent is out of focus. I am like a novice wizard who forgets
> the magic words he needs to use to make it stop. I am surrounded by
> the ruins of fantasy solutions which haven't manifested like I would
> have had them. Though for long whiles, I was well fooled. Yes, there
> is an obvious significant connection between what I pray for and
> what I get, but somehow what I get proves to be a lesson about
> reality and how the world around me is not ever quite what I would
> make it. So I say I am out of focus. I miss the mark, I am shooting
> off target. I am missing. The word in Hebrew for sin is the same for
> missing a target. CHET. I am constantly searching for my sins, not as
> inherent wrongness or evil as such, but simply how what I am doing
> gets in the way of my own imagining myself into a better world. While
> I know many moments of peaceful bliss, honesty requires me to say
> that the ache I know in the center of my void still has a relentless
> hold on my heart. I ache too intensely and for too lengthy stretches
> of time to say I am happy and there are things in my Life I would
> change. But with all my desire to do what must be done, I fall short
> of what is required and live in the knowledge of my being less than
> perfect and perhaps even unfit for holy service. I am at best, a
> fallen angel whose wings are broken and battered and who worse than
> this, has forgotten how to fly. At best I have done gliding, and that
> as you recall depends on there being a wind with some lift in its
> lips. Kissed by Gods who wouldn't fly? Take Off.
> But such fortune as I have known, was strictly from the House of
> Mirrors, where I am taught to appreciate my own true size. An ignited
> mote, a particle of hot light, a spark from the Tree of Life. No
> bigger than a speck of dust. My bubble of heat is but an instant of
> sight in a universe of the blind. How we are protected by our
> ignorance. The borders of our mind are solid protection against the
> confusion of All One. Every pattern you worshipped will be broken,
> all images are false and pagan, there is no truth that defines the
> Void that does not deceive you and leave you in debt. In a miracle
> of something to nothing, come this close to the Chaos and you leave
> with less than you arrived with, hotter than ever. The Burning Bush
> is ablaze with All that's contained in space and time. It burns on
> the fuel of self consuming mind. It is a Void with a suction of
> Quantum Wave Functions. Reality is a sequence of story which comes
> into being by the collapsing of a wave function into the measuring
> device of a mind. What you see is what you got out of all that could
> have been. What you were wishing for when you chose to look
> influences what you see. All the things you are wishing for compete
> in a game of priorities. The resulting experience at any given moment
> is the sum of all the cross vectors of intent, modified by the
> product of all the intents generated by all others who are willing a
> change into reality. That is all there is to it. Life prefers a
> colorful story which celebrates certain motifs, which go back to the
> Primal Religious Experiences, in all the variety such experiences
> have. Burn Baby, Burn, and worlds are born and go up in flames, with
> every breath we take. Jonathan
>
>
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