The world is magic.
White magic and black magic in perpetual motion. Combining motion, at times. Contrasting motion, at times. Conflicting motion, at times. Light and darkness swing, swirl and collide … one reminding of new, the other reminding of old; one speaking of life, the other speaking of death. A dream of magic is this world, not happening, not taking place … the sea of aware aliveness never sleeps.
Magic is everything made of pixels, words and conventions. Magic is everything that “now you see it, now you don’t”; now you think you understand it, now you realize you don’t understand at all. Magic is all that is partial. Approximations. Speculations. Theories. Dreams. Desires.
Seeing children traumatized by doctors makes one sad. Repeated humiliating painful investigations concluded with the administration of poisoning potions scar the soul. Soul’s inherent trust and love of life remains covered under this thick cloth of black magic. Until something wakes him.
I am one of those children. My sisters were others, under my eyes, upon my child’s heart. One adult was giving us long waiting hours for intrusive investigations, “go on, take this, don’t be a bad girl” promptings and “little treats” tricks after bitter tasting stomach-aching poisons. Another adult was giving us fragrant plant teas, fruits, honey, seeds and walks in nature. First adult venerated doctors until, many years later, first adult went for a checkup for oneself. “No doctors for me”.
Somehow, we survived. Without remembering our souls. Without knowing there is nothing wrong with us.
Seeing ignorant men destroying the beautiful earth to make buildings and vehicles makes one sad. Not long ago, we had a beautiful orchard with a little house nested between cheerful fruit trees. Now the orchard is a parking lot for trucks. My heart is weeping. My heart desires to live among flowers and trees, breathe the breeze of the sea, swaying on the waves, feel the sand under bare soles and the sun on my face. I wish all men were irrecoverable drunkards, sitting, drinking, singing and writing poems all day long.
A writer is a pioneer in the treacherous absurd forests of the ignorant’s mind. Sometimes one gets tired trying to explain to the ignorant why the world is as it is. “Because of your ignorance. Your self-deception, pretending that your actions do good. Watching you persist in self deception, in spite all evidence that you are destroying the earth and those around you brings sadness in the heart. Why do you refuse to see?”
Seeing you passing on to children your earth-destroying mindset makes one’s heart sad.
“ Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you. You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.” ~ Kahlil Gibran “On children”
Your children will hate you for your ignorance. And you’ll have no excuse because now the effects of your actions are evident, in front of everyone’s eyes. And yet you continue as if it’s all a game to you anyway. And, after all, you are right. It is a game for those who came to play it.
There is a game for everyone. There are a certain finite ever increasing number of conflicts that this world offers: war on poverty, war on cancer, war on child slavery, war on teen pregnancy, war on drunk drivers, war for peace keeping … Well, it’s how the world keeps itself going. Conflict breeds more conflict. The white magic seems to yield to black magic, but wait … no, it’s a comeback. White magic wins again. Yet it won’t last. Soon the same thing will happen again … and again …… and again …… and again …
Remain awake as aware aliveness. Return to your true home, your true nature. The real light. Do not be tempted to join the game of the world. You can be in the world without being of the world.
Why there is hate and sadness in one’s heart? Because there is so much desire buildups for the opposite of what is being witnessed.
Why there is desire for this or that? Because of conditioned ego thinking inherited from previous generations. We’ve been trained since early childhood “this is good, desirable, must seek, must get it, have it, own it”, “this is painful, must be avoided”. Hence, the world is split in two as the mind who made it.
It is as it is. Fortunately, it is a dream. Fortunately, there is life beyond the split conditioned thinking.
©️A. Garden, June 2021