Zen and the subtle art of Surfing

I look up and see the transparent fish school in water filled sky’s above my bed…for here I lay with eyes fixed on moving escapades that gives my ceiling-less room it’s sky light… waiting for the indelible wave.

Safety still is momentary, seeing it as fractionary…breaking down time in cubistic events so the past wont shatter my mind.

Fairy tale rimes and wisteria vines have climbed from my past to this stationary presence, like moving wallpaper; my magical thoughts update when necessary.

When your mother is a monster, and daddy is a letch you can never quite sleep, never quite get enough to eat or to sick to. Never quite know what to do because you think you are wrong what ever you do.

And for years you might never know why,

But that day you will know when the tears begin themselves shedding their repressed droughts of sorrow.

The wailing water…will heal me …it always has…from the Blues, that’s what made Jazz.

But perp, you try to steal anymore of my music, I will break every bone stolen note in your body, until you bleed out the innocent songs so they can sing themselves back to the soul wandering child men…. like me.

What you did is worse than murder; because of you I didn't grow up, it seems I just grow older, like a strange species of Bonsai.

I heard Jimi blasting his Marshalls late one night, then I saw an army of memories marching to the gates. He told me this verse was mine as I gripped the Golden Microphone with confidence and sang:

“All along the Watch Tower
Standing guard in my pain
Losing trust and my power
To the demons of shame.

The dead have rushed in and bit my heart
Though a child I was
Evil meant me harm that night
All I wanted was love.

No reason to get excited
Our time has finally come
Where brothers band together
Protecting innocence from harm.
Hey Hey Hey…~*

But not far from here is where tiny angelic sparks come through the heroic stories that my fellow Brothers have told from their war torn hearts… having the courage of the last standing warrior of the Spartan 300 to tell ….I start to feel alive again standing around that Circle of Honor.

“Learning to be easy on your self,” is the name of a trail that leads up to the floating Zen garden where a Master has mastered unimpeded feeling as his meditation.

The Inner Master says,
You are learning to feel the sorrow about your sadness, and you have seen that you have been very angry about not being able to feel completely angry.

And half hate is a worse state than hating fully…it is the ultra paradox because it could uncover your hidden self-love truly.

Young child boy, you have been operating a man’s body suit and it is still just 2 sizes to big. And that little leaf isn’t really able to cover your fig.

Of the secret stories and years that you were a curled up ball longing to unfurl into a man, you are much closer to seeing the elusive editor that operates in your mind; telling you what to feel and what not to...it’s sinister job is almost over because you are getting wise to its debilitating work…

Then when all seems so good and start to relax…I get frightened there has got to be a catch…and post-traumatic dancers are ready to bolt on the stage.

But the Master’s gentleness I allow because for the first time I feel what feeling safe really is.

And maybe you always were the Master that you sought, and maybe there is no need to keep your seeking shoes on, they have walked far enough.

Take them off and dip your toes in the deep wide blue. Could there be a state that Life is constantly new?

The transparent fish do a blinding beautiful turn as the ocean cloud above me gleams a radiant wave like the big one in the endless summer.

The last thing I see is the pipeline turning into a rainbow… surprisingly I’m on board right in the middle of it.



Miles









Edited by emag8man (01/20/10 09:02 PM)
_________________________
Miles