Deepest,
by Tim,
4/21/03.
Blot out the outside world,
externalize the mind,
wrap my center around me...
it wasn't my center after all.
Roaming between the inflated-to-edgelessness
of my mental skin,
I find a truer light, a deeper center, another
layer of me within, and I
wonder how many more layers of this
psychological/spiritual onion exist until I
reach my point of origin:
...and there, in the tension
of uncertainty, I juggle
the hope and fear...
Just let me be Me.
Let the center not be
the infinity of all infinities.
Let me be the root of myself.
I don't want to be everything.
I don't want to dig deeper down,
strip away all the masks,
work my way through this Chinese box
in search of
the point that defines,
the origin of my awareness
-- to find that I'm just a dream.
Without skin here, years ago,
I won against the fear that used to
drag me down here, the seemingly alive
terror that always made this other-place just
another layer of the nightmare,
a layer more real than the
lifetime and dreamtime.
Now it's a wonderland,
and the fears, the nightmare up there
are what seem to push me down here,
a space, a place I now recognize
as closer to Home,
something, somewhere, some layer
I can't define but only explain
as a feeling of longing, as something
I'm being led through this multi-leveled,
web-worked maze towards;
a place that, when I try and explain it,
leaves me feeling like a 5-D creature
explaining it's feeling of something higher
to a circus of creatures in Flatland.
Whatever it is I'm being led to,
wherever this is all leading,
wherever it is I feel the spiritual instinct
to go or grow towards,
make it not be the deeper fear
-- the deepest --
make me not be a water droplet
on it's way down some Cosmic Falls,
getting ever-closer to the bottom,
closer to being swallowed up,
closer to mergence,
closer to annihilation.
It's plagued my nights and days,
it's plagued my everything:
a fear that's deeper than death,
the only true death,
the fear I feel when I look into
those big, black, slanted, liquid eyes
-- kind of like black holes,
kind of like dark ice, kind of
like poisoned amber.
You're so much you're almost nothing,
make that not be truth,
make it not be the
goal of all this.
Make the truth for me be in me and be me
and not in me to be everything, nothing.
I don't want to have come this far for nothing.
I don't want to have come this far for everything.
I don't want to be everything.
Let me be the root of myself.
Let the center not be
the infinity of all infinities.
Just let me be Me.
One true thing: separate,
connected and
complete.
by Tim,
4/21/03.
Blot out the outside world,
externalize the mind,
wrap my center around me...
it wasn't my center after all.
Roaming between the inflated-to-edgelessness
of my mental skin,
I find a truer light, a deeper center, another
layer of me within, and I
wonder how many more layers of this
psychological/spiritual onion exist until I
reach my point of origin:
...and there, in the tension
of uncertainty, I juggle
the hope and fear...
Just let me be Me.
Let the center not be
the infinity of all infinities.
Let me be the root of myself.
I don't want to be everything.
I don't want to dig deeper down,
strip away all the masks,
work my way through this Chinese box
in search of
the point that defines,
the origin of my awareness
-- to find that I'm just a dream.
Without skin here, years ago,
I won against the fear that used to
drag me down here, the seemingly alive
terror that always made this other-place just
another layer of the nightmare,
a layer more real than the
lifetime and dreamtime.
Now it's a wonderland,
and the fears, the nightmare up there
are what seem to push me down here,
a space, a place I now recognize
as closer to Home,
something, somewhere, some layer
I can't define but only explain
as a feeling of longing, as something
I'm being led through this multi-leveled,
web-worked maze towards;
a place that, when I try and explain it,
leaves me feeling like a 5-D creature
explaining it's feeling of something higher
to a circus of creatures in Flatland.
Whatever it is I'm being led to,
wherever this is all leading,
wherever it is I feel the spiritual instinct
to go or grow towards,
make it not be the deeper fear
-- the deepest --
make me not be a water droplet
on it's way down some Cosmic Falls,
getting ever-closer to the bottom,
closer to being swallowed up,
closer to mergence,
closer to annihilation.
It's plagued my nights and days,
it's plagued my everything:
a fear that's deeper than death,
the only true death,
the fear I feel when I look into
those big, black, slanted, liquid eyes
-- kind of like black holes,
kind of like dark ice, kind of
like poisoned amber.
You're so much you're almost nothing,
make that not be truth,
make it not be the
goal of all this.
Make the truth for me be in me and be me
and not in me to be everything, nothing.
I don't want to have come this far for nothing.
I don't want to have come this far for everything.
I don't want to be everything.
Let me be the root of myself.
Let the center not be
the infinity of all infinities.
Just let me be Me.
One true thing: separate,
connected and
complete.
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