Are you like the wind in the trees… sure its whining & whistling proves it’s ‘solid’? Examine imaginary existence and non-existence.
Blow in to examine your perception of life, existence, and non-existence.
‘We’ are temporary be-ings blowing through landscapes of beauty and woe.
“We’re a wind that blows through the trees, sure the sound it makes proves it’s solid. Yeah, we’re breeze-beings identifying ourselves by any gust that’s conveniently dualistic.
Come to think of it… any breeze that defines anything is a temporary be-ing that comes and goes, confined by the mirrors of its own whining and whistling reflection.”
“As we swirl, caressing tall buildings and mountain passes we know all the storm gods and dust devils ever created are symptoms of our larger self, a perception born of elements.”
The storm only ‘appears’ to be unaware of your presence - like the arm does the hand and the branch does the leaf.
Change only happens from ‘state’. All things flow from state. The change from thought or knowledge brings you to a different place, then back again. Change from thought only effects the ‘outside’ you. As your state changes, the ‘inside’ and ‘outside’ world ‘change’.
“No matter how gale force the innumerous eddies, how deceiving the sound of our movement, how many lies that tell of thunder that never arrives, the truth we occasionally blow about, the love we swirl on soft summer days… it’s all from the same source - the larger us that’s decided to play in the realm of sun and earth.”
“No matter our tornado’s color, the direction of rain, F force, or whether we appear soft and flowing or aggressive and tearing, no matter how useless or worthwhile we appear when we look upon ourselves… it’s us.”
All be-ings travel upon roads that are eventually seen to have receding horizons.
“Going back, even grandmother wind whispers she is us, so is all, everyone, every breeze, gust, storm, and hurricane, and everything we’ve ever touched.”
“The music we make when whistling through trees and roaring before storms, as well as the soil and debris we pick up to nourish ourselves - are echoes within echoes thinking themselves separate - wind feeding upon itself.”
“The genius we bring to sails, and the futility of drifting leaves with no where to go, the beauty of air lifted rose petals and ugliness of dust storms - all us.”
The elements seem slow, the breezes zip around from canyon to beach, saying to one another, “Elements can’t think”. Yet the elements are in their knowing, and thought seldom occurs. All the while wind-knowledge moves nowhere, a stagnation of attached distinctions - no longer ‘necessary’.
From the point of a breeze, the perceived time of an element ‘thinking’ is a very long time indeed. Because the less you think, the more you know. And the more you know, the slower and more inconsequential you appear to the ‘thinking’ beings.
Wrapped up in their breezy egos and unaware of who makes the decisions of their ‘life and death’, the eddies of wind rarely comprehend their state of be-ing.
“Moments we hear it and see it.”
Here, the ‘elements’ do what they wish. Sentiently they create, which ‘destroys’ much of the breezes. The elements do not fret, nor do they think themselves evil or good, nor are they perceived that way by the infinite number of breezes.
But alas, it’s the elements that make decisions birthing new worlds, countries, cultures… all while obliterating untold populations of breeze ‘lives’.
“Moments we know it.”
This my breezy friends, if you understand, is our next larger nature… some of us are to become the new ‘elements’.
“When we’re halfway windy, we feel alone. When we’re full force, we’re whole.”
“When we’re not there at all, we’re a breeze that goes nowhere, and soon not a breeze at all.”
Blow into the eddies of the Alchemy Lounge