SHACK 4150 TUSSLE

Courtesy Tussle for the Keg

Oh restless mind searching hither and thither desperately endeavouring to establish yourself as authentic and real. Yet dear mind you are a collection of thoughts and experiences beliefs and agendas with cultural upbringing from earlier years and instilled into your open receptive space bereft of choice at that time.

How I see you struggle to still the cascading thoughts and emotions and you feel victim to your own collection and bundles of random chaos and yet still trying to form an orderly approach and reason to this disorderly orchestration and vainly trying to make this a reasonable presentation and often let down by the inherited data and often realising you are someone else's ideas and often they go back generations and then regurgitated and sometimes modified so as to appear new and fresh and original and then let down again as this reincarnated information and indeed yourself falls short of convincing you it is creative and original.

How much more you cry, how much more do I try to convince myself that I am real and here and solid and yet I know deep in the cellars and crevices of the vaults of the unconscious I am but an entity, a splinter of the lasting attempts to prove I am real and authentic. Alas I collapse and have to accept albeit reluctantly I am a shadow and do not reflect reality. Oh woe is me, is there a saviour, yet I know only the complete dissolution of this shadow will suffice.

Whilst in the background so to speak there is a witness to this cacophony, this assemblage of random chaos and outworn and faded patterns and loose bits and pieces, this silent and yet attentive presence of awareness and is the fount of life watching the endless forms come and go as clouds in the sky and patches that reveal the sun and keeps on the vigil of witness and and aware stillness until the recognition of the restless mind ceases to be by the understanding of its own mortality.   

SHACK   aka    GEOFF