Great Storms of Our Lives

If every human being is an island, I have something to say about this: when the great storm approaches, there is nothing one could do to prevent such design of nature. Yet, the deep breath before the plunge is one of the most important moments the storm reveals. For such moment is part of the storm yet to come, though not often considered as it is.

Storms are gifts of nature, splendid as they are, yet mostly misunderstood by men and women who tend to cast evil and uncanny thoughts upon them. It is, however, comes down to the ability to seize the moments of deep breath before the plunge of storm, in order to look at the storm in the eye. Or else, the great storms of our lives shall devour us and disband our will without a moment of peace.

One could not welcome a great storm, nor could he be joyful as it approaches. Fear, anxiety, and a relentless restlessness are often the part of the moments of deep breath. And one could moreover be strong and brave enough to stand against it, to fix their eyes upon it. Storm shall devour one nonetheless, there is no escape. But hope must not be abandoned, thoughts of good memory and celebration must not be cast aside, and emotions in that way, must be catalyzed to create love at that instant. For love is the most powerful energy that man has ever known. One could not love a great storm, nor should they love it, embrace it. Love must come uneventfully during the deep breath. And one must profess their emotions, so that they could be catalyzed to create a shieldmaiden of love.

The secret that many of us fail to realize is that the great wave that comes as the plunge melts down before the shieldmaiden of love. Just like the lighthouse in the midst of a grim ocean, the shieldmaiden of love is made up of one piece, and is ready to absorb the plunge as one. Gods are created in that instant, and the existing ones are cast into winds of oblivion. For the deep breath before the plunge of a great storm is one mighty instant to become the God of our own destiny!

To write a poem

Enjoy my new poem! :

"I am not full of nobilities or virtues,
But I love...steadfastly, with humility and compassion.
The way I cherish my woman comes uneventfully
Like a soothing summer breeze under a glass moon.

"I speak with kindness, yet I am not an actor.
Not a saint either; people should know me better.
Perhaps a god; but not glorified,
In front of those eyes that passes through my inadequacy.

"Spirited away the most of my telling, all now has gone astray
Diminishing my less the hands blessed in a slender beauty
O the woman of my gleaming fate , for a thousand year I shall be yours.
Cast me into fires; alas, my heart's already in unheard-of ruins!

"Nay, I utter, my love shan't pass beyond the grace of undying lands.
I shall die in you, to be born forever to remain still in your love...

Search for the Implicit

It is only a wise perspective that men of courage and big heart could conjure the spell of implicit, which has impregnated the heart of men with hope and greater deeds. On the other side of the mirror, it is only a fool's perspective to not grasp the fact that the letters which men created to dominate this world with his word, have become the dominator of his own fate.

Letters serve for the explicit, as it could be seen in many written languages of human world. For making the reality explicit, we have created letters, and imbued all our rights of living with a language that is too abstract to unravel many phenomenon. Though men did not reckon one thing, which he does as usual after being inspired by an unchallenged stream of consciousness; that is, the incomplete nature of his own mind.

I do not understand the fool errands of men: how come did you let your own creation dominate your own fate? A creation, even today, decides the doom of many innocent people, lost souls, crippled hearts, and so. Today, letters dominate every single domain of life - through institutions, evil works quietly, attacking from within shadows, and it wields the letters to execute its own malice. An evil whose sole existence cannot be verified unless one takes heart to delve into the shadows. Letters, imbued with corruption instead of aesthetics and beauty; letters that unleashes stagnancy over our fate, instead of inspiring our wits.

What man does say in his heart is not always what he writes on papers. A man that belongs to no nation, no culture, no institution, but with his beautiful earth and its green lands is enslaved by pieces of papers manufcatured by lesser men to corrupt his heart and diminish his humanity - o those lesser men, those fools that dominate our fate! In whose mighty company they could be cast aside, thrown into oblivion and let their ever malice be forgotten, I ask?

We live by explicit, but what we really desire in our hearts is the implicit, the transcendental faculty of our grasp and gaze. Letters are governed by explicit - one explains a thing, that he has yet to understand what that means, then it is written, and becomes the rule and the law governs the fate of many with fraudelence. Yet, what is meant, that does not cross the borders of language but remains in the transcendental remain, is implicit - one that is implied not explained, not completely unfolded. Implicit is the higher capacity of a person that he desires to attain. But he couldn't - how could he when stages of life are governed by explicit, by institutions who corrupt the heart of men by keeping us fixed on what is already explicit? Too much exposure to explicit makes a person drone, a mere robot !

So passes men's faculty for implicit - for poetry, for untold glory, for beauty and music ! Alas, there is none to see the passing, none to grasp what is within our reach still !

Back to the Dreamtime

I wonder if I will ever be able to see a society in which we thrive peace and love - cheap words for many ears, which may consider them as a trite. I think I found out that the answer is present in certain societies who are estranged from this world, labelled as 'unnatural.'

I must speak of aboriginal people of Australia and their dreamtime phenomenon. As far as I can emphathize, dreamtime is different from our daily time where we interact with objects. Australian Natives, whereas, have a special connection with dreamtime where they can interact with something much more real than our shared reality. These people don't dream like majority of us; nor prosper their desires in their dreams. When they dream, the realm of dreams becomes authentic, and then it is acknowledged that whatever has been seen in the dream is a flux of vision descending from superconsciousness.

Through dreaming Australian Natives are authentically linked, because they know by experience that our shared reality is only a fragment of the entire phenomenon about consciousness. Through dreaming, they can feel the suffering of an animal, a plant and even an insect, as they have acknowledged the whole existence in its greatness.

In the deserts of Australia, one can see a native Warlpiri man praying before mala before he hunts down the hare-like animal. A Warlpiri first acknowledges the subjective-otherness of his prey; through such demeanor, he sees through the prey's body, and reaches its soul. When this happens, dreaming takes place. The hunter asks the soul if the prey allows him to hunt so long as his clan and family are fed. And it is most likely that the prey allows him, declares its life to be taken because its spirit has been acknowledged by a hunter. As soon the hunter acknowledges its subjective-otherness, the hunt is no longer an object, and becomes ready to move on from its animal path toward a higher consciousness. The hunter becomes one with the spirit of his prey in dreamtime, takes its body, as he frees its spirit, which has just been acknowledged by him.

Such higher level of treatment... these people are so skillful in their subjective treatment to the natural world that they easily empathize with an animal, even go beyond it, and contact its soul. Such reciprocity is beyond imagination...of a western man. For an aboriginal human being, it is a natural way of living... for this is, perhaps, what we never had.

Many Australian Natives celebrate life in such a way that nothing is being left out of this reciprocity. It takes only an afternoon for a Warlpiri to satisfy all his desires, and then what is left is to stare at sunset on the rim of the burning desert, and dance, and tell stories about hunting, discovery of new species, and how these species can be honored in the next dreamtime.

This is no dream. This life still exists, although vanishing day by day, as the ambition of our industrial society is growing maliciously to no end. This life... it seems so close, but also distant - just like how we feel about love. Thus we will never understand a thing about love, though everyone is free to make up his own story about it.

Love is reciprocity.

Nature Walk in Clifton

Today, I have finally made my long-waited nature walk, which turned into a spirit walk just as it happened in my other hiking trips. I have come to appreciate my existence in this world once more, for nature made it so by unconcealing my heart's eyes. As the feminine spirit of the woods I walked past by them and the memory of those graceful people I knew and still know haunted me every then and again, I fathomed that even though things may have to begone, we shall meet them in the unfathomable force.

My uninhabited walk in Clifton woods has summoned an awareness for me, for I realized that by all those old trees, their coming spring blooms, and the birds celebrating the whole existence as if time is mute in absolution, the nature detached me from my less as it attached me to my most, which I thought was lost. This power of transformation is nowhere to be found but inside the nature where things are still authentic. Why do I feel homely when I am out in the woods? Seeing an old cottage hall, gracefully embraced by ivies, and sakura trees whose pink miracles met with my most, and finally a glade where I was mesmerized by the entire authenticity of willow trees towering like monuments....after all, I was already gone!

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