The lamps are different,
But the Light is the same.
So many garish lamps in the dying brain’s lamp-show,
Forget about them.
Concentrate on the essence, concentrate on the Light.
In lucid bliss, calmly smoking off its own holy fire,
The Light streams towards you from all things,
All people, all possible permutations of good, evil, thought, passion.
The lamps are different,
but the Light is the same.
One matter, one energy, one Light, one Light-mind,
Endlessly emanating all things.
One turning and burning diamond,
One, one, one.
Ground yourself, strip yourself down,
To blind loving silence.
Stay there, until you see
You are gazing at the Light
With its own ageless eyes.
To who am I speaking? Myself I guess, or to the one to whom I assigned the impossible task to relieve my insatiable appetite. This is an extension to or an update to When Enough isn’t
I have just recently arrived at the notion that, what I really am after is not what is consuming my thinking mind’s desire. I know from experience that, as soon as my objective is achieved the result will disappoint or the feeling I hoped would be captured does not occur. What I really want is the relief, from the craving, inner peas…lol I do make an error in what I think will quell the desire.
My ego insists that I must have what can never ultimately be possessed. Is it ironic that ego (self) and wanting to possess (covet) are features of human nature we are told to turn away from?
The anticipation is what I am addicted to. The projected outcome, which never happens, is that which consumes me.
It is truly corrosive to my peas. So, please accept my apology. I cannot say that it will never happen again, because I am, after all, Human
“The winners actively seek and practice a new way of living. A new way of being. A new way of thinking. A new way of behaving. A new way of relating. The losers wait until they are in so much pain that the choice becomes obvious, and they choose to participate only enough to get the pain to stop.” Drop the rock Bill P., Todd W., Sara S.
There was a time I would count myself among the losers. No longer. I am through beating my head against the wall. “The best part of beating your head against the wall is, that you can choose to stop”.
Today I will actively choose to be better, considerate, patient, kind, grateful, and generous.
I am reflecting on receiving my 19-year medallion this past Saturday’s monthly sobriety recognition and speaker meeting. Ther was an Al-Anon speaker and an AA speaker. It very enlightening to hear the perspective of the emotions of the loved ones of addicts and alcoholics. The AA speaker was very good as well.
I am struck recently that, there is no more original thought. It has all been thought, proclaimed and disseminated throughout time. The thoughts and writings merely seem to be presented in a slightly different way and offered to a new generation.
Of course, this is all only a matter of opinion and I am most certainly wrong.
Here are a couple examples, where I feel as though I have felt these things all my life and are somewhat eternally true.
Heraclitus
Heraclitus or Heracleitos was a pre-Socratic Greek Philosopher he lived from c. 535 – c. 475 BC her is some of his writing
“The majority of men think they see and do not. They believe they listen but they do not hear. They are absent when present, because in the act of seeing and hearing they substitute the familiar cliches of familiar prejudice for the new and unexpected truth that is being offered to them. They complacently imagine they are receiving a new light, but in the very moment of apprehension they renew their obsession with the old darkness, which is so familiar that it and it alone, appears to be light to them.”
Sound familiar? It does to me. I cant say why or where, but it seems universal.
And the next is an excerpt from The Literary Essays of Thomas Merton
(pp. 367)
“Since there is no genuine creativity apart from God, the man who attempts to be a “creator” outside of God and independent of him is forced to fall back on magic. The sin of the wizard is not so much that he usurps and exercises a real preternatural power, but that his postures travesty the divine by degrading man’s freedom in absurd and servile manipulations of reality.”
Any of that ring a bell? Seems, to me we are surrounded by those that tell us down is up and black is white and bad is good. I’m happy to be on a quest toward emptiness.
It was slightly more than 20 years ago. A delightful summer afternoon, ironically this memory includes me mowing the lawn. Ironic because I because I mow lawns for a living in the summer. My friend John is walking by. I stop what I’m doing to visit. He tells me about a new type of treatment program that is solely based on the spiritual principles found in the Big Book Alcoholics Anonymous. At this point, having a little more than 2 years of continuous sobriety/clean time. I thought, boy I sure wish I could go there.
Well little did I know at that time, what the mighty Jester of the Cosmos had written in the book of my life. On November 16th, 1998 I entered the program at The Retreat.
The first thing that hit me was, during a Big Book study with Roger B. He says. “I hope you’re DONE and not just here to take a break.” Woah, just woah. Yes, I’m so done. The next thing was again Roger B. “Are you willing to believe in the possibility?” That a Higher Power could restore me to sanity. Yes! That would be the beginning of an intention to improve my conscious contact with God “as I understand God” which is impossible to comprehend. The basis of which is how I am willing to carry on without chemicals.
Fast forward to today. I have discovered the enlightened self-interest of, and the key to staying sober is helping others to recover. Wait, how can I help? What do I have to offer? Well as it turns out I have my experience. Which through sharing that, I am able to stay in recovery from addiction. I have found something else even more valuable than my experience. It is worth more than any material or financial commodity. It costs nothing but requires an immense amount of energy if offered with intention.
The most valuable thing is My Attention
Giving freely of my attention is the most generous thing I can do. With attention I discover understanding and that is what I get in return.
I have all my needs provided for or acquired. I find myself craving more. As the result of paying close attention to my desires and potential drives behind them. I have found that I can never really have what I am hoping to possess in some way. I have yet to figure out why I become obsessed with what I can really never have in the way I imagine.
I am in fact sure that if I did get it, I would no longer want it with the same passion that I wanted for it in the first place. What is it about me that I contort my principles to appeal another that I might be found in their favor, while at the same time the reaction to me is one of ambivalence or perhaps even indifference. It leaves me wanting it even more
image source Google images
While all along there are those that are available, yet there is only mild interest on my part.
I think I am afraid to make authentic connections and receive the Love an appreciation that I’m not sure I deserve but should.
I can no longer endure the psychic pain of resentment. I must be rid of it as soon as it becomes evident in my thought. “resentment is like me taking poison and hoping someone else dies”. -Unknown
To be rid of it
Consider the person, place, thing or situation.
What happened
Consider how this affects me and other relationships
Where had I been selfish, dishonest, inconsiderate? Where if any had I hurt them. Did I arouse issues?
I write this down if possible, there is a certain magic in writing with pen/pencil and paper and holding it in my hands to be relieved of this discomfort.
I will then take time, to wish them loving kindness, that they will be relieved of suffering and the root of it.
I can now carry on my way, shedding my qualms like a loose garment.
In the kingdom of life, with the strokes of the brush, the bow and the pen, artists have sowed their hearts to contrive, fields rivalling in beauty the Garden of Eden.
