Saturday, December 20, 2014

Finding selfless love in Myanmar


  • Visual thoughts within minor time within major events.
  • Nothing actual but all is relevant through subjectivity and positioning.
  • Looking through an understanding which is based on limitation - capability and clarity of personal vision.
  • No direct anchorage to bedrock, this is within the gap, and with no iintention to connect stepping stones.
  • Within this space there is no linear need and no need to make sense.
  • It is for non-sensical intensions - daydreaming within moments of actuality.
Did you hear god breath?
Can you think within your personal cage?



Listening for self consideration, remembering but knowing - forgottence. How will we remember? I will remind you.

Playing with Fire. In the mind of consciousness fire warms each step into the future.  Wet organism playing with fire to evolve into what could be seen. Only to see what fire will allow us to see.

Heaviness of safety. Enclosed with brick, mortar, steel and glass. Within a weaved lair, the booming and splashing of lightning, pacifies needs to do and do and do.

Washed with rain, pipes funnel each drop down to become a torrent weaving a barrier and urging stoppage and awe. Even within new surroundings this inconvenience issues  forth a declination to participate. No longer can groups of people stand in silence to let time meld into collective thoughts of nothingness. 

It seems so static until you look away for a moment of difference. Whilst, involved within the play the battle continues forever changing and remaining. You are managing change. Disengage from the play and the battle will have changed.  Now the play is about finding the same to re-engage to regain certainty. You are regaining control. It's like falling in your sleep - slip, catch and regain the static.

As twilight graces our imagination, night drips into existence. Arteries flow with lightning pulses and apartment buildings transcend more than just concrete, glass, stone, brick and mortar. 

The 'shape-of-things-to-come' try as it may has to fight its way through ideology. The elements are holistic but inheritedly blind and determined to restrict adventure, optimism and creativity. Rattle the cage and the warden lash out.

So the show of brilliance is accompanied by growing blindness. We must protect our identity, who we are, who we were and our determined visions of what we shall become. How do we emerge to a new us without falling back onto the quagmires of protectionist patriotism? 

And as the night descends to cool down our presence, the birds come in to roost. Noisily, screamingly, flappingly we flurry to consider what should be completed and what should be let go. Tomorrow is upon us. The balance between maintaining past glories and investing in new adventures doesn't tire our youthful minds. Where is it all going? It is the sense of space and the efforts to integrate with new positions, voices and actions that tires our physical aging bodies. It is just fading away rotting and decaying. They are new birds that roost and we have forgotten the songs that past habitat sung. 


Puddles form and shapes emerge. There are too many to focus on. Pecularity helps us to make sense. Pecularity leads to deaper analysis and enables commonality to gain pecularity status. I want to break through commonality but the difference I seek quickly becomes common.

We climbed to the top of a holy hill. Each step brought anticipation and removed daily thoughts. The effort mediated need and banter. Chatter and the cacophony of disconnected relevance seemed close out. For a brief time, urgency had only one achievement point. Singular effort relieved me from commonality.

In realisation it seem so easy - just place singularity as the precursor of effort. Could this be done in a shopping centre, at work, strolling through a park or some other as-usual activity? Would the effort to restrict banter enhance the activity? Can commonality be removed and replaced by singular effort?

But but but I relented. On return my commonalities returned. The grid of culture quickly resumed, and the order I sought to remove grounded me to fall into resumption -  within the safety of expected roles and responsibilities. I'm in there. My little space is safe.

And with realisation of nothing came an overwhelming sense of tiredness. It's all been done before. My place is my determined order. All questions nailed the sameness of answer. I could not find myself within the construct of my heritage. I drifted away from my ill-described want.

Is it any wonder that it is about the self. Save yourself, find your nirvana, make your karma. I am a fool to suggest this is us. There is no master plan. It is about the rot beneath the trees and time to grow. Hear yourself, understand yourself and rejoice that any love can emerge.

Whilst we dream of post-apopalistic struggles and dwell in fantasies of surreal abilities the nightmare of what is dissipates within love. The conclusion of care-in-need maintains acceptance of life.