Saturday no rest for nothing

Northeast is the compass point my head is pointing towards, north of the eventual spot where light would first appear, if there were no clouds covering the eastern sky in the darkness. but behind the rolling and pointed landscape of the valleyed mesas to the east there is only the dark grey smear of the unborn sunrise filled with water moisture that collects from the eddying currents of the ocean 15 miles southwest of my dark and wonderful meditation room. like the sky, i sleep in the grey undawn of the dead and understand nothing of the living, here am i delivered to mine enemies as a sacrifice ready for stuffing with an apple in my mouth and on the platter of delight my trussed and salted form. unbidden to me comes the realization of awareness and the pleasure of awakening. the mind sullies into motion, evaluating the moment, the where and then, with a motion of the neck and the sleep sotted eyes, a glance to the tiny numerals hidden under the bed stand where my new age alarm, that never sings, resides. every morning i precede any necessity for the wash of white noise that signals the clocks attempt to please me with its complete lack of accuracy, for this digital toy has no sense of time keeping but is only a relative form of the kind that actually do keep time. i think this one loses time which is quite artful for an inanimate object full of faulty electronics. but as we like to say, close enough for government work. its around the 4am hour within a few and certainly close enough for a saturday where there is no work and my spirit is ever more eager to start this non work agenda for my soul.
i praise the energies that maintain this seemingly seasoned form and stretch the wrinkled flesh and know that in the image of a mirror, the lines of sleep etch deep in the furrows of my weathered face. i properly swing and sway with the rhythm of the stretching and bending and every day the body is a bit more pliable and the popping and the cracking are lessened in my spine and neck. It is enough that i feel the awakeness greatly open my eyes in the candlelight and the blood is fairly singing in my hardening circulatory system.

the kitchen has the usual flavor of the night and the wandering cats that need their wishes fulfilled before any human needs and all is done in due time as i make the coffee and prepare the shake of fiber and amino acids and meter out the 20 pills and toast the beloved raisins till they are warm and sticky and leave little melted raisin marks on everything they touch.

the first few minutes are divine, the peace and tranquility of the mind, the satisfaction of the flavor and hunger centers of the body, the almost normal feeling of a human in the act of greeting the day that has not yet taken hold. here is the empty spaces of time, the freedom to move and create anything, for the world has not yet imposed its mantle of structures and demands that follow the coming of the sun and the force of its undying energies. i set to my most cherished task, the recording of my life for the edification of a few and why they do and i provide is a symbiosis that has existed for centuries, curiosity on their part and the divine messenger on mine. somewhere the product is being figured and set into motion ,and from it, the flow of the world is shifting, little increment by infinitesimal change until the entire shape of that which is becomes that which is and this. from there the pattern recognition fails and the patchwork of disciplines and spontaneous actions eclipse any understanding i possess of what in this life has been affected.
I see myself before the keyboard enraptured in the act of creation, the fingers flying so fast that keys are touched but so lightly at times the letters are not activated and misspelling abound but i can read every word as if they were my own thoughts and that is the flow i am looking for.
all saturdays are alike in their divine form , the infinite measure of its own longing for reunification and passage of the event that will return all to its original state of unknowable emptiness, unconceived and unreflected in any sense or meaning. why that is, is the unknown, why existence is only the sideshow, the dog and pony for the howard hughes production of what makes the universe so meaningless and where does the real meaning of life become a paradox of nothing existing, for the instant of recognition and fulfillment of some unknowable play of unthinkable unconsciousness. that i will dwell on and contemplate when all matter ceases to matter and all light is ended. but i know the truth now, and all psychoanalysis is laid bare for its band aid on the psyche. the feeling of emptiness is not a dysfunction of the mind, not an alienation of the soul, but the exact opposite, the fixation on the living and the myriad forms is the delirium and the neurosis of the modern world and we live in a giant padded cell to sooth the nervous animal heart and quiet the massive human thought machine, creating scenarios upon scenarios of doom and certain death. for we come from the void and we surely return there and everything in life is focused away from that and yet it is our foundation waiting to be embraced and then lived as though death was as familiar as the coffee black and hot before me.
in each particle of the universe, the infinite awareness of the void is kept whole and realized, but in every instance where man is in full realization of this connection to our own immortal being, we are sent rushing to the world to smother that realization, to stop the scream of recognition, to forget the game ending play of the emptiness that is the truth of all things.
and i do not feel sad or depressed but rather exhilarated to have discovered the secret life of the soul, the slumbering giant of awareness that knows nothing but the void and is busily reflecting all that it is, not as a show, a play of differences and telling of this is what is not the void, but is surely that which shall return unmade to the emptiness from which all things came.
and the world merrily chugs along, ignoring the truth and making believe that all is as it seems and the only problem is the cost of pharmaceuticals and the time needed to distract the children for as long as possible so they become indoctrinated into the lie of existence.
the morning is a wonder of the writing and the thinking and the morning sun comes up without a sign except for the grey light behind the low hanging clouds. and i feel to meditate and the connection to the unmeaningful SAT is palpable and i sit lonely and empty in my pillows and feel the slight electric charge of the chit vibrating my bones and teeth ever so lightly and the buuzz of the connection shifts my system into a different gear of awareness. its touch is light as the tamas would have it but ever so sweet for my form which feels no pain from its intrusion, so welcome and unknown.
hours pass in the charged positions and i finally emerge, thinking not for the first time, what is this play and how does this change my life and what is the manifestation of the divine beyond even this connection, every day, to the SAT and CHIT and the ANANDA that is so precious to me and for which i would surrender all my relationships and body parts to keep.
yearning as i always do when leaving meditation i wonder why i cannot stay forever, what is it in me that i need to overcome to stop this restlessness that overtakes me even as i am in communion with the everything and the nothing of my desires. i must find that and end it for my self is not my self and my desire is not for this world of things yet here i am in the world wanting.
i no longer dread my despair or pain, but enjoy its invaluable truths and plays on my waking consciousness, for each moment of the darkness just brings me closer to the source.i drink its black nectar and embrace what cannot be named.
the time is already eleven and i dress to walk as the first rays of the sun begin emerge and the chill of the mornings breezes start to warm. i feel the slow tamas as my usual gait is a bit reduced and the sense of time is magnified, but only between thoughts and the entire wondrous experience is, as a whole, brief yet covering an hour and fifteen minutes of my day. refreshed i take a few minutes to relax and find out the happenings of the day and go to the warehouse store to get presents for my sons 27th birthday celebration and there is not anything i would not do for my wonderful boy who is a man of men and the holder of the family jewels and the father of our scion in lucas and the adopter of his fiery latin wife and daughter. i am so unbelievably happy for his success and hope that when he has completed his ordained duties, the passage to the spirit will be swift and complete for him.
meanwhile i get him the entertainment he needs to keep the darkness away and delight his senses a while longer. in the ancestral demesne, i return to my meditation and have another hour of pure bliss and feel the stroking pleasure of the ananda of my love, ever widening and filling the tamas laden stupor of my awareness.
i emerge hungry and feel the pit of my emptiness after my long communion with its source. the soup and bread fill me beyond need and i settle into chatting with my love who decides not to come as the party tonight would be too distracting for me and she wants me all for herself and i wholeheartedly agree for i want her too as much as she would give.
i ponder my life and relationship with her and am given to the love that i forget sometimes until i actually see and touch her as if i have been in a dream of denial and then the miracle always, happens, and there is nothing i would not do to just be there in her radiance forever. and this too, i know, is false but so wonderful in its realness for i have been human so long that even my dreams are real for me and the only dream that is real is the one that is lost in the end of thought.
the afternoon drags on as the teenage daughter of another mother is preparing for the prom and her friend and her, all dressed as zebras and quite nattily so, and they look a lovely couple and are such close friends and i wonder why they do not mate but that is the play of the world, that which is the simplest solution is by far the least likely but they are having so much childish fun, all are caught up in it and the afternoon rolls into evening and its time for the dreaded birthday family dinner at the bright shiny new restaurant at the mall and the very opposite of all that i desire, we clump in a corner of the noisy crowded vestibule and watch the hundreds of mongering eating and waiting humans drinking the locally made beer and cocktails, each with the hint of fever in their eyes except for the children that really are having fun with it all and scurry though the milling crowds playing in the wide tri-panelled circulating entry door that whirls and whirls letting in little blasts of the cold night air.
the hour wait extends to an hour and a half before our party of seven is seated in a long and awkward booth and the end chair is set in the aisle for lucas who feels left out of the togetherness of the cozy booth seats, but the triangular crayons and the kids menu of games and puzzles and grandma's directions and her childlike attitude quickly cheers him up and we are begun to order the local food that i have eaten a million times before, as the same restaurant and brewhouse was my second home when i worked for five years away from home in the trendy locale of westlake village.
the meal is a lengthy process of appetizers and drinks and finally the entrees of which mine is an unwelcome small green salad and cup of some meaty looking minestrone soup, the same as i had eaten for my lunch, but whos contents i have no awareness of,and which would have normally been my only meal of the day. i have no appetite and do not share in the delicious appetizers and only drink water. i dutifully eat my share of the celebration and keep up a conversation at the table since it appears no one has anything to talk about which is so often the case with this family and i love it because, truly what is there in life but the performance of our duties and the occasional respite from them, and what of interest is there in that, so talk is minimal but i try to make light chit chat about tjs work and the everyday lives we lead.
by the time the final Pazooookie, baked cookie with ice cream, comes with candle on top, compliments of the establishment, it is 9:30 and all are full and boxes readied for take home and eventually i am sure the trash at my house because leftovers are so unpalatable by the next day for my picky daughter and my wife, of course, is trying to diet and she will resist eating the fat filled foods and i am glad for it.
on the way home from the feast we make the the trip to my sons townhouse, only 3 blocks from the ancestral manor, and we have a short but happy unveiling of the gifts, the marvin the martian t shirt and the Chargers football team logo pocket watch on a desktop stand and the movies and clothes clothes clothes and of course some spending cash and we are done and pleased and all went well, with no trips to the hospital or time spent reprimanding children and finally, my daughter driving us by the way, and she drives way too fast, much like her mother and father did, and we are home by a little after 10pm and its too late for the jacuzzi and i spend a moment with my love on the chat, then by 11 pm i realize i am loosing focus and the world seems like a fuzzy green pillow and the bed a magic carpet to the endless world of not.