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My companion and I walked in that dark forest,

We did not agree on the path,

We did not agree on the route,

We did not agree on the destination.

Yet, we walked together in that dark forest.

My companion was up front and leading,

We heard the sounds,

We heard the growling,

We heard the beast following.

Yet, my companion in that dark forest kept leading.

Something caused him to trip, something caused him to fall,

He hit the dark humus hard,

He groaned as his body fell hard,

He seemed to have passed out.

Yet I was not sure for I noticed he was unmoving after the fall.

Growling and howling in the dark forest came,

I had my companion's light,

I could move on and save myself,

I could have abandoned him.

Yet I could not leave as the dark forest beast came.

So my hand I offered to a companion stirring,

My companion's eyes opened and shined gleeful,

My companion seemed renewed and grateful,

My companion, despite our difference, became a comrade.

All as a result of my hand offered to a companion stirring.

We continued our journey together strong uninterrupted,

Braved the dark forest together,

Braved the arduous task together,

Braved our own fears together.

We moved in silence our bonding uninterrupted.

Ahead we saw a fork in the path,

On the right a smooth path of light,

On the right a hard path still in dark,

On our minds which we would take,

As we noticed ahead a fork in the path.

As we approached to the right my friend pointed,

Stating that was his new path,

Stating we had to part ways now,

Stating that I could not go further with him.

To his destiny on the right my friend pointed.

As he began stepping toward the path of light,

He then thanked me for staying with him,

He thanked me for not leaving after the fall,

He thanked me for being a faithful companion.

Then he walked to where I couldn't on the path of light.

I watched as he strolled away with tears welling,

"Your name is written in golden letters on my heart,

Your Presence is always alive in my soul,

Your Significance I will related to your loved ones,"

I told him as he strolled away on my tears of Love.

And the forest whispered,

"You will always win,

You will always live,

You will always find the light,"

And the forest whispered,

"If you continue to follow,

Your strength, your creed,

Your compassion and respect,

Your warrior Ethos and,

Never Leave Behind a Fallen Comrade."


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"Your rhetorical bullshit simply won't fly- it's an ignorant attempt to degrade the character of atheists and intelligent people, in general, you're enabling unjustified stereotypes". 

Now, I must admit, this statement certainly got me pondering the nature of false information or bluffing (also known in the vernacular, and perhaps somewhat more accurate, as "bullshit"). 

Why is this pertinent to the discussion of "Is God Anything?"  Well, I think it quite pertinent given my recent affection for the axiom of "no one is smart enough to be 100% wrong."  Now, if someone says God is nothing, there is some truth in that, as is there truth in God is something - yet the partial truths do not definitively point to Truth.

Consider the following passage -

"Lying and bluffing ar both modes of misrepresentation or deception.  Now the concept most central to the distinctive nature of a lie is that of falsity: the liar is essentially someone who deliberately promulgates a falsehood.  Bluffing, too, is typically devoted to conveying something false.  Unlike plain lying, however, it is more especially a matter not of falsity but of fakery.  This is what accounts for its nearness to bullshit.  For the essence of bullshit is not that it is false but that it is phony.  In order to appreciate this distinction, one must recognize that a fake or phony need not be in any respect (apart from authenticity itself) inferior to the real thing.  What is not genuine need not also be defective in some other way.  It may be, after all, an exact copy.  What is wrong with a conterfeit is not what it is like, but how it was made.  This points to a similar and fundamental aspect of the essential nature of bullshit: although it is produced without concern with the truth, it need not be false.  The bullshitter is faking things.  But this does not mean that he necessarily gets them wrong"     - 2002, On Bullshit, Harry G. Frankfurt

Perhaps, beyond respecting a bullshitter for perhaps not being deliberately false, we should also understand that, just perhaps, despite the nature of the bullshit, that they embody some truth.

Just excrement for thought...

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Yes, the sun will come out, tomorrow - New sight given by the true Light, nature now seen as a part of Nature.

Arroyo Sunrise 

 

Sunrise,

an outdoor classroom lesson in revelation.

Yellow hues on red rock,

reveals arroyos and hilltops in contrasting correlation.

Light skipping spryly over terrain,

to the conscious observer's insightful elation.

A demonstration of light,

nature providing a glimpse of Nature.

Sunrise,

both hummingbird and sapiens note it happening.

Bird now knows it is time to feed,

Sapiens knows it is time to arise, a new awakening.

Light skipping spryly over terrain,

the conscious observer spots fleeting deeper understanding.

The gift of glorious star light,

nature providing a glimpse of Nature.

Sunrise,

the star's rays catch the conscious observer.

Tossing her over the arroyos and hilltops in a different perspective,

Rise giving rise to a new understanding, conscious mind in a fervor,

to grasp the Oneness, get a foothold in the Emptiness.

Cast adrift in the sea of paradigm, searching for the meaningful life preserver.

Insight provided by the sun's light,

nature providing a fleeting glimpse of Nature.

Sunrise,

can be innocently viewed like an simple creature as something that just daily occurs,

Or measured empirically by the advanced mind, dissecting the event down to photons.

Yet the Light carried in the light has more meaning that it transfers,

for those prepared to see, ready for another turn of evolution,

deeper understanding of the Oneness, they become part - more than observers.

New sight given by the true Light,

nature now seen as a part of Nature.

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Originally posted to blog on Mar 21st, 2007.

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In Spring the Bank Swallow honed,

On the River she knew so well,

To set up a place of family, a home.

She gracefully swooped over the River,

And saw all the preferred bank places,

Were taken, full as a Sparrow arrow quiver.

She caught a draft, and floated high,

Searching desperately for a nesting place,

And spotted a perfect spot by the road nigh.

She built a nest in the unusual place,

A precise duplicate of the "perfect home"

A homey place in the sandy road-cut face.

She caught mosquitoes for sustenance,

They were just as thick here as by the River,

This adaptation was necessary, not perchance.

An older Swallow one day took note,

Of younger Swallow choosing alternate mode,

Apparently ignoring instinctual rote.

He flew near, and chattered angrily,

"You are Bank Swallow, not Cut Swallow,"

Move down to the River, I say verily.

She bravely resisted his taunts,

Deciding to stay and raise her chicks,

Other birds mocking her from their "traditional" haunts.

So late in Spring, from her cut perch above,

She watched the traditionalists drown,

In the River's angry flood waters void of love.

The Swallow embraced her tradition,

Made a perfect copy in a different place,

Adapting what she knew to a new situation.

Glorious "Road Cut Swallow,"

So beautiful in transcendence,

So beautiful in vitality.

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Judgement without perception,

Knowing without understanding,

Capability without compassion,

Thinking without feeling,

Friendliness without introspection,

Is blindly seeing.

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Have ye exported your soul? 

Why violate ye the tenets of Liberty?

Liberty cannot be forced, it must be chosen.

Liberty cannot be exported emperically.

Enter not into foreign entaglements.


Have ye turned your back to Her?

Why reject ye the love of Liberty?

Liberty is not governance, Liberty is not fickle.

Liberty despises the force of governance.

Governance is a fearful servant and a dangerous master.


Have ye scorned the compassion of Liberty?

Why confuse ye Liberty with democracy?

Liberty can be found in a republic.

Liberty is loving acceptance and justice.

Let justice be done though the heavens should fall.


Remember Her virtues.

Remember Her power.

Remember Her in Liberation.

REMEMBER.


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I Dis-Covered me 



Previously, inspiration was something others provided.
Giving hope, a stellar sample, and a fine example.
It came from others, a gift they provided.
Then I discovered me.
Inspiration is both something drawn and something given.
Taking hope, thankfulness for the sample, passing on the example.
A gift for all, inspiration is not one-sided.

Before, love was something that others gave.
Passing adoration, plenty of devotion, thick emotion.
It came from others, it was I they raved.
Then I discovered me.
Love is shared, when and why out-flowing not understood.
It just happens, between souls borne of devotion.
A gift for all, through love the world can be saved.

In times past, work and career was truly divine.
It defined I, and was a centrifuge of purpose.
Work allowed recognition of self and improved the bottom line.
Then I discovered me.
Work is not what is done, but a part of what makes a being.
Given freely without malice to contribute to the community surplus.
A gift for all, my work an integral contribution by design.

In the age of BM (before me), I saw the world as a playground.
Nature, creatures, and souls solely existed for individual benefit.
It was I, the lone forest creature, for which the falling tree made a sound.
Then I discovered me.
The world exists as a precious miracle, and all things in it meant to be symbiotic.
A system of cooperation between souls, a brilliant application of Mother's wit.
We are all creatures born of the same dust, a family on this planet's ground.

Perhaps, I discovered we.


Originally posted on Aug 27th, 2006 

 

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A farmer symbiotic of furrow,

Sowing hope and nurturing earth,

Reaping life with a humble burro,

Simply shining with life's flare.

Fancy Wall Street broker,

Weathering the bear and caching the bull,

Expensive Cuban cigar smoker,

Richly exuding patina flair.

Artist interpreting life in polychromatic,

Channeling the true element of humanity,

Seeing light different in poetic semantic,

Painting and writing in light's flare.

Seemingly aglow in stardom's light,

Entertainment hero always wears the best,

Surreal twinkling in the Hollywood night,

Pining of others enwraps them in flair.

Bright indeed is this one-dimensional glare,

Burns white phosphorous bright and white,

Made only brighter by worldly admiration and stare,

Fluorescent shallowness of this type of flair.

Truest understanding can come in meditation and prayer,

Holistic knowledge of Truth gained by the truest of True,

Ascension gained by transcendence heir,

Allows insight to the celestial deep glow of Kosmic flare.


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