Such an incredible creation Mysterious and magical This roundish world of ours Spinning Cycling Around and around Timeless No agenda No rules No words Pure beingness Full of creative aliveness
Man With his little split brain And inability to birth Can't grasp Unity The oneness That looks like two But is forever one
He is alive with Earth's Creative energy Yet sees himself as separate From Her
He creates Little squiggly spermy Letters that become words And numbers Thousands of them That become stories This is his creation
And our roundish Cohesive world Is broken into bits And lined up Linearly With words at each end To depict the extremes Right-wrong Good-bad Love-hate LIfe-death Joy-sorrow Past-future Polar opposites That we seemingly Move between
The continuous Flow of time Is broken into Seconds, minutes, hours Days, weeks, year... All made up But reality is timeless
Thus, we lose our wholeness Our oneness And see otherness Me and not-me As we measure the world Good, better, best And judge and compare From the singular standpoint Of me
She has less compassion than me He is angrier than me They are more violent than me She is more generous than me She isn't as smart as me He is smarter than me He is stronger than me She is prettier than me He is wealthier than me They are more priviledged than me He is more enlightened than me She is more talented than me He is more pious than me She is more masculine than me They are more negative than me But, it is all relative To a fixed position On an imagined line On a language created continuum With hierarchical values
Words are hypnotic We have been spelled Someone somewhere is always lacking Sometimes it's me Sometimes it's you We stand and point fingers "Why can't you be kinder?" As we stand on a point on the line That goes from 0-100 Cruel to compassionate Selfish to selfless And they shout back "Move closer to me And narrow the gap."
But, THERE IS NO LINE We are perfectly perfect Language has created opinions Has created options Has created false values Where none exist Language has created wars Based on nothing Words are not real They are made up!
Words/stories are like boulders In the flowing river of life And we spend all our time Jumping from boulder to boulder Oblivious to reality If, for a moment You fell into the spaces Between words Into the nothingness That holds everything You'd fall into Her arms Into the energy of creation Into a pulsing heart of aliveness Into unity as created and creator Into harmony and peace Into a space with no opposite Just this--everything and nothing Perfection Stillness Wordless Silent Love
barb j beyers 