garycoutts.com
This picture and drama of a tormented person recoiling from the past from the horror of Life's perceived maniacal events, wondering if there were or was any genuine trustworthy human alive, and only animals and nature bore their true selves unless manipulated and contaminated by the ugly filthy people.
A subtle programme of self righteousness runs in the background playing softly as a reference a software seemingly permanently installed and would seem hard wired in the brain or even dare it be said consciousness.
Yet a dawning understanding seeps gently and almost imperceptible into the backdrop beginning to light upon the darkened cynical remnants of a past endeavoring to be buried under the debris of trauma and the stains hard to wash out in the fabric of the delicate hurt felt by a built up illusion that this is me.
Suddenly as though if hit by lightening, a clarion call, THIS IS NOT ME. What is me shouts that illusion, the false God, the lonely person running away from the hurt, sitting quietly in the mountains and the hills, the front porch in the shack in a lonely yet beautiful part of the wilderness in the backwoods of nature, running from the world, but realizing running from the not me, from itself, then actually knowing the real ME cannot be tormented or hurt. Yes it can feel the experience yet the hurt does not impinge into an indelible emotion of searing pain and leading to a repeat and never ending loop of poor me, why me?
Who is this me shouts that pain of illusion? The illusion itself realizing it is an illusion and looking to solidify itself into a solid reality cannot do so, so searches in vain to gain solid ground, the only attempt to cover up hollow empty feelings is to say the mantra 'this is not me' then to repeat itself over and over again in order to try to convince itself, 'you see I am real, solid, a reality, this is who I really am' and yet there is a slight doubt which is stuck on, glued on by fear and says 'you will not exist as a being at all if you really believe you are an illusion, merely a collection of DVD's stored somewhere in the mind and separated from the all and all as lonely fragile separate piece of something, put here on Earth by an uncaring creator who is trying to find Itself, and has left one to the outrages and torments of the world and its sometimes incessant insanity'.
Yet on careful silent observation one begins to realize there is a quiet but intelligent viewer to all this cacophony an observer looking with interest and no judgment and is covered like the clouds and mists, the fogs and distractions which overlay the brilliant clear blue sky, this has a feeling of non ending beauty and eternal Life and indeed Life itself, it feels real and not unreal and there is a certainty that the 'not me' is an illusion and a mind playing games which are emotionally charged and are but a movie, a film from the DVD collection and are played only to shore up a life gone by, maybe hankered over, a good life, a bad life, a don't know life, all them 'not me's' which are vainly trying to establish themselves as ME------unfortunately not so.
SHACK
WHOA
Hey man that darkness is really who I am------It's not dark and empty when you dive into it---------it's something else-------not even a something but an everything.
Hold on 'Jungy' are you for real?
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