Thursday, June 13, 2013

Dream another world

There are some that realise they are on a journey.

They look forward, seeking the journey’s end.

There are some that feel they are on a mission.

They look around, seeking threats and pitfalls.

There are some that live to fulfil false duty.

They look backwards.

There are many that are in stasis.

They do not look.

It is only in looking forward that hope might be found, and so the hopes of humanity rest with those who are on the journey.

It would be better to hold their hands.

A person’s oblivion as a physical being is an illusion.

It is the consciousness that exists, and that consciousness is an eternity, an infinity.

Death of the corporeal entity is a process of recycling. Made of atoms, we are reduced to atoms, to substances, that are absorbed by other life forms, by the roots of trees, by the ants and maggots that in turn die and are reduced. We are temporarily constructed from the idea of matter using recycled atoms that are billions of years old. Made of this stuff of the universe, becoming again the stuff of the universe, forming and reforming into different entities time and time again.

We have been tree and grass. We have been mammoth. We have been stone. We have suffered the erosion of wind and rain and have been both wind and rain. We have dwelt in the heart of stars, and roared with vitality. We have always existed, the parts that make our whole have been here since the beginning.

And we remember it all.

We have learned from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

We know that both reside within this imaginary construct we currently think of as “I”.

We daily choose good, though understanding that evil is available to us, is a matter of choice.

A matter of will.

We understand that will is the whole of the thing.

That reality is a construct of will.

That the world is what we dream it to be in this illusion.

And that we can dream another world.

Hold our hands in LOVE.

Olive Farmer & Aktina Pempti

Xxx xxx xxx
The olive tree is bathed in a ray of light that squeezes through the valley as the sun rises, like a stage performer illumined by the spotlights. Count those beams and see that it is the fifth ray that lights up the olive tree. Both the ray and the tree play their part, one bringing energy from its deep roots, the other from its cosmic presence. Here in Crete such things have long been, and in such marvels can be found hope, the hope born of roots given strength by light.
Dream, brothers and sisters.
Dream another world.

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