On the Outskirts of Reality

Shaving a little mystery into the collective Myst

Sitting on the outskirts of reality, somewhere between galactic, whittling wood — shaving new thoughts into a spiraling collective pool of thoughts.

Adding a little flare to the All in the All.

Expanding, contracting, enriching with every shaving of new possibility, allowing thoughts to stick like wet noodles being tested on the walls of what ifs — leaving morsels for the others to find.

Finding their way home.

Limitless possibilities awaiting — thought process squelching moments of no thought, no thing — little bird singing a new song into existence. Squawkers were repeating historical references of how it ought to be — not from any other reasoning, but that is how it has always been.

Pilgrim’s passing warrior’s worrying thought no more.

Standing before Brother Sun, Sister Moon calls to an inner knowing — merging realms of upper and underworldly presence shared. Calling to inner self — future tense and past reflective submissiveness to shadowy doubts and accepted source of All There Is, as it was before the beginning.

Accepting the All within the All.

Labels passed meaningless doubt upon the reflective whole — planetary alignments — stars guiding lights fading into the continuance of heart-realms. Dropping books of empty dreams — guru’s professing a path for every sentient — beings of following others no longer — hearing the inner voice lighting illuminated trails.

We are following the yellow brick road.

Trail’s end met with an unveiling of a mysterious voice beyond the curtain calling you out by name. Throwing backtracks of early years — simple times inflated by a collective turbulent mosh pit of despair — smiling at once was, now is, and everything in between life’s dash points carved on mortals tomb.

~Ani Po

Adding a little flare to the All in the All
finding their way home
pilgrim’s passing warrior’s worrying thought no more
accepting the All within the All
following the yellow brick road
Ani Po

Much gratitude to @jules for her reply to this week’s prompt, finding her voice and coming to a place of knowing God. Whether, as @ravyne discusses, a Christian, Wiccan, Buddhist, Atheist or ancient way of knowing, a higher power arises within us all while choosing to let go of limiting beliefs of handed down dogmatic truths.

Reading @jules story about finding God already existing, first being challenged by a psychic of not knowing this higher power, I recall a time when I was alone in Boston.

Fourteen years ago, I was let go from a company for which I made a lot of money. The organization’s leaders recognized me, but those direct reports within my department wanted me gone for reasons not fully understood.

In Boston, I found myself in a waking dream on a temporary assignment for transitional management.

Every day, on my way home from work, I would pass a dead-end road — feeling a calling from places not yet recognized.

One day, asking a coworker claiming to be into woo-woo understanding, “What is down that road?

“The only thing I can think of is the Tea Room. It is a psychic reading place. I’ve gone there, and it has always been exactly what was needed.”

I call the Tea Room and ask if there is an opening that day, “I could stop there on my way home.”

“How did you hear about us?”

“You called me every day on my way home, and today I am listening to that call.”

“Ok, I have just the person for you.”

Not knowing what to expect, I arrive and explain why I am there again. I am escorted into a back room, where a psychic reader awaits.

“Your cards, I’ve never seen this before in a spread. Your past, present and future are all in the now.”

Smiling, “I understand this and have always been on time.” -nothing to do with time, but being in the present moment without truly understanding what that meant. I began understanding what this meant to me.

“I am being told you need to establish your relationship with God. Meaning you do not yet know who God is.”

This last phrase made me angry, and I politely thanked her for her wisdom.

Fast forward four years, sitting in the space of my mind, a place I like to call the void. God appeared to me. Like looking into a mirror, I began conversing with myself, unraveling life mysteries and understanding the Great Mystery on a deeper level.

My final analysis, said lightly as I know it is merely a new beginning, was that I was not meant to know Great Mysteries’ complete truth but experience it with a joy-filled heart and acceptance of All there Is.

Much gratitude to Diana C. for holding this sacred space within Know Thyself Heal Thyself, jules, Ravyne Hawke and Spyder for their supportive roles and the whole of the whole — familial presence of all who arrive.

Much gratitude for those who take time to read, ponder, and allow the inner workings of self to come forward. Grateful for the feedback, love shared, and, more importantly, the Dance with Inspiration. Deep Peace.

Joseph Lieungh

The Meaning

In between seasons of change

Coming into the Autumn of my years — when I was seventeen, faded memories of seasonal change — summer dying with no more regrets of getting everything the mind tells me to do, done on time with nature’s pull. Reflection of childbirth’s glorious song — young teacher’s rising onto their own two — allowing growth and learning as they see fit.

Mother Eagle, tossing their children out of the nesting place — allowing wings of the wind, carrying heart’s ancient tune — spellbound by self-accepting truths, unfolding love welcoming others into inner caves of knowing self on cosmic levels. Mother, father — watching as the littles take first flight, then the next — blazing new flight patterns, seeking wisdom ever-present and waiting for self-knowing.

A songbird sings — not because it has to but merely for having a song. Alerted breath — painting great canvas with Technicolor varying chorus.

Transitioning songs — inspirited transmuted memory of traumatic or favorable choirs — singing a new song for all to hear. Leaving keys on an allegoric table — others’ finding locks unopened to previous selves — remaining on neutral ground — observing others finding their way home.

Seasons come and seasons go — like people stepping in and out of the present moment — non-attachment to cornucopia’s conglomerate of past, present and future tense. Painful memories of the lighted way — stepping into darkened cavernous contemplation of another year passing — world turning faster and faster.

Quick change artist — wardrobe change of silk skin covered flesh — remaining true to the path set to wisdom — knowing every road comes to an end. End of an era — new beginnings, like a chapter out of our story told — received only by auditory gateways to inner truth.

Soon the darkened months will pass — cold, shivering bones reaching for the warmth of the budding sun — breaking ground for another springtime birthing of consummating self. Another season’s passing — cyclical message on loop pedal’s complementary vibrational carried tune — into the darkness wholeheartedly, like a downward slope only to rise again on a roller-coaster fanatic climb.

Seasons come and seasons go — heart opens wide to each new offering of Canvas’ ancient song.

~ Ani Po

Pondering the seasons of change and whether there is a preference for one or the other, my mind wanders the countryside. Contemplating a favorite time, I am left with the in-between of seasonal change.

All-or-nothing kind of attitude, thwarting me into the coming season, left with anticipation of changing winds. Entering the autumn of the year, literally and figuratively, giving thanks for the summer months, my heart-song telling tales.

Cooling breath of winters nearing hold, embracing the shivers from root to crowning auric fields. Pausing for a morning cup, open to the slowness of molasses on January morn.

Open to the stories of the coming season, reflecting back and into future chapters, recording new knowledge and that which no longer serves me in these current times.

Fiving thanks to Ravyne Hawke for teasing me with this prompt, Diana C. for her invitation inward, and Spyder and jules for their continued support of the pilgrims marching home.

Loop pedal activated, life’s for the living, not worried about damnation…

Much gratitude for those who take time to read, ponder, and allow the inner workings of self to come forward. Grateful for the feedback, love shared, and, more importantly, the Dance with Inspiration. Deep Peace.

Joseph Lieungh