The labyrinth is this…it is this life- this experience in the body. The voyaging Being uses the machine to navigate through the labyrinth. The labyrinth is all around, all encompassing, and mostly invisible in the sleeping state. Driving down the street, one decision to make a left turn is a path, a new doorway with infinite possibilities ahead- the impulse to stop at a coffee shop is another.
We cannot travel in all directions at once. Only one path can be voyaged at a time, and each action takes the Being up or down, to the right or to the left- through time- in the multi-dimensional labyrinth.
Just imagine a vast labyrinth, with its multitude of choices, its many paths spill forward with promise. But the place you want to get to is the inner courtyard- you cannot just hop walls- the path must be walked- and sometimes when it seems you are descending- seemingly far away from the goal- it is because you are walking a non linear path which may ultimately bring you closer to the heart.

"...your ancestor did not believe in a uniform, absolute time. He
believed in an infinite series of times, in a growing, dizzying net of divergent,
convergent and parallel times. This network of times which approached one
another, forked, broke off, or were unaware of one another for centuries,
embraces all possibilities of time. We do not exist in the majority of these
times; in some you exist, and not I; in others I, and not you; in others, both
of us. In the present one, which a favorable fate has granted me, you have
arrived at my house; in another, while crossing the garden, you found me
dead; in still another, I utter these same words, but I am a mistake, a ghost."

It’s a story that travels in circles.
I remember you, I struggle to be free of you,
I see you coming to redeem me again.
I lack the control to decide which it will be in any given space. 

When I am aglow with pure love I am a beautiful care free maiden.
When I resist, I become monstrous, clawed and toothed, with an indiscriminate bite.
 
As I return
to the life electric
I take the shape
of a mad old woman
 
cackling and bending in the street,...
babbling incoherent truth. 
 
All the heavens
and all the hells 
that I have visited
in my various shapes, 
I have visited
accidentally. 
  
Unable to man my ship,
I arrive wherever the change wind blows. 
I kill you in this play,
love you in that,
give birth to you in another,
on and on.
 
When I do remember,
that too is an accident.
As an accident
it is no more beautiful
than when I forget.
   
What is beautiful
is the moment outside of the fold,...
that place
where I am
another you,
where puppet
and master
and stage
are the holy trinity
and the circle is enlivened by purpose.

While traveling, somebody stops and asks me:

-Who are you?
-I am Nobody. Who are you?
-I am None, Nothing, Nowhere. There is no more. You’ve reached the bottom. Stay for a while.
-No, I don’t want to.
-I am telling you, stay.
-I don’t want to, I am scared.
-Don’t be scared. After all, you have nowhere to go, no one is expecting you.
Whereas, I love you. I will give you all my silence and solitude. I am gonna make it yours.
-No, I am telling you, I am scared.
-And I am telling you, don’t be scared. I am for you.
-Who are you?
-I am you.
-No, no way.
-Yes, still.
-That is, I look like you.
-You don’t just look like me, we are the same.
-And so, who are you?
-I am Nobody.
-And then, where are we?
-We are in Nowhere. But don’t be afraid. I am gonna hold your hand and little by little we will find the way.
-You think?
-I am certain

The gods withdraw:
The great beasts come, Io Pan! I am borne
To death on the horn
Of the Unicorn.
I am Pan! Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan!

Oh the earthly one had her plans for the tree of life.
From it she would fashion a bed in which she could sleep and a throne from which she could rule her terrestrial kingdom. She turned her eyes from it to allow it to come to fruition so that it could be harvested to yield worldly delights.
There was another use for it however, and while the earthly one was away a conspiracy of the life electric was hatched.
When earthly one came to claim the tree she found the clear seeing dragon coiled around its base. The earthly one trembled then because in the face of a dragon her pleasures would melt like dreams in the mornings rays.
Looking on she saw that her claim was even further disputed, for the maiden that steals light had taken up residence within the trees center and with such befitting neighbors the fierce and radiant Zu bird had made its nest at the crown of the tree.
This trinity prevented the harvest of the Halub tree as the earthly one dared not touch them. Instead the conniving whore of the world enlisted the help of a mortal man. He killed the dragon sending the one who steals light into exile as a demon of the night. The Zu bird was then forced to take flight.

Break your image into seven fragments and wait for the storm. When the womb has been prepared you may plant your seed. You will know the time is right when the light is broken in the sky.

Then you will journey to the red temple in the south. Sacrifice the first remnant of your form at the red temple. Be aware dreamer, that the seven temples offered themselves up long ago, you will find only the shards that remain here.

When the first is done travel southwest in search of the orange temple, where you will leave the second piece of your mortal representation. Be watchful for the presence of a sensual woman. This is how you will recognize the orange temple.

Seek out the yellow temple traveling Northwest. You will know it by the presence of winged creatures. Leave your third fragment and take to the road again.

In the North you will find the green temple. Here life finds a way around obstructions. Make your sacrifice and prepare your heart at the green temple.

Continue Northeast in search of the blue temple. There will be a stillness about the place coupled with unusual sounds. Leave the fifth offering of self in the music of the blue temple.

In the east you will discover the violet temple. The senses are heightened when you are in the proximity of the violet temple. In the stunning presence of the seemingly ordinary you must leave the sixth fragment.

Voyage to the center by traveling west unless there is a clear sign that the center is nearer than anticipated. The last temple is not easily identifiable. It must be recognized by it’s essence. Offering the final fragment of your image begins the initiation. Only an open and willing heart can carry essence without form. Only essence survives fragmentation. Only essence may voyage beyond this shard of a temple that offered itself up long ago.

Image:

A point mapping of luminous points of an object located in one region of space to points in another region of space, formed by refraction or reflection of light in a manner which causes light from each point of the object to converge to or diverge from a point somewhere else on the image.

 

 

 

 

 

 

You only have to allow beauty.
She's there waiting to be given some room to breath and unfold.

In some cases creation is a process of constricting and taming her,
the wild uncompromising force of Love.
But once she has been domesticated there is nothing left to do.
Nowhere to move.
Just a great sense of self satisfaction for having subdued that horrible chaotic force.

Unchecked domination.
A war on terror.
The end of Life. 

Then the servants of Love will take on the work of loosing her binds.
Creation becomes a process of artfully removing obstacles, of placing explosives so that the structure will collapse just so.
Creators are really demolitions experts.

Tear down the walls.
Walk on the grass.
Return to the seas of our origin.
The key is never to loose the contact.
There may come a day when having cut her free there is nothing left to do.
Then the hunt is on.

Catch her.
Tie her.
Silence her.

But a good collaborator will take care not to break her.
A co-creator will bind her just so, and will remain sensitive to her vulnerable situation.
Recognize that the master must be a servant.
And set her loose at the right moment to prolong the creative dance.
Satisfaction = Exploitation
Beauty gave me a poem, and I gave her a knife.

A crawling mass encases the most primordial treasure. The gauzy line dividing enthusiasm from violence is the difference between protecting and cannibalizing. We have nothing to protect, and it is so worthy of our service.

Take the dark road under the black and brilliant expanse. Keep an eye to the bright and burning jewels embedded in the blackness above.

As you travel this road you will have to loose mass. Shed your skin. Seek the water of life and bathe in it. Let the waters flow into your heart to sprout the wings which combine with your reptilian nature to birth a dragon. The way back into the world is down the same dark road.

As you travel it, take the expanse in with dragon eyes. Hold it loosely.

In the world, guard the treasure, but do not cling to it.. You are only holding it until death claims it again. If you were a servant of bad faith and devoured your keep, death will visit as devourer.

If you were pure of heart, the willing servant, death will be restorer.

If you are not awake you cannot make a real choice, you will be responding mechanically to whatever crosses your path.
That is why the first step is to cultivate presence; wakefulness.
A work wish cannot become the will to work until some time has been spent in such a state.

AWAKE NOW.

To be awake is to be open, naked in a world swarming with Beings tucked away within heavy mechanized armor.
It will always be socially inappropriate to bare your Being in a society of Beings tucked within heavy mechanized armor.
You must tread against the tide.

BE HERE.

If you are not here, you are nowhere being carried on the tide.
It is our work to resist the force of entropy.
It is our work to defy nature.
It is our work to respond creatively.
You can only respond creatively if you are able to make a real choice.

You can only make a real choice if you are AWAKE NOW.

Not just reading and allowing your advanced mechanic data processor to apply this to its own mode of operations, or discard it due to its uselessness to that mode of operation.

IF YOU DO NOT EAT THE MACHINE, IT WILL EAT YOU.

Who’s processing who?

I am not this, I am not that, I am the breath within the breath.
Lucidity within a dream sets the dreamer free.

Organic life is a long drawn out process of decay.
What can use decay?
One might think of the Gods as eaters of the dead. Cosmic and subtle mushrooms, they grow out of death, out of waste.
Organic life feeds immortal life.
An up beat and a down beat, an in breath and an out.
Objective life results from the marriage of these two.

Without mortality to eat through, no Gods, without the Gods the cycle ends, an exhale without an inhalation.
The result: stagnation.

Organic life that rejects the immortal is the equivalent of the Great Goddess aborting the new God growing in the womb, a universe gone cannibal.
Cooperation facilitates life.
Trust, the sacrifice of self, serves a mutual and conscious act of creation.

An awakened cosmology is composed entirely of willing servants whereas an endarkened cosmology is built of warring masters.
The universe is composed without as it is within.

Therefore you must choose to either become vulnerable or tyrannical, naked or dead, and your decision rules the fate of worlds within worlds.