I met these two gentleman waiting for permits in Lone Pine, California. My wife and I arrived at 7 am to beat the lines. These fellas’ had been there since 3 a.m. The night crew was supposed to leave them a permit out the night before, however when the gentlemen arrived no permit was to be found. They patiently watched the sunrise with us and told us stories of perilous mountain passes, loose rocks, and tight wound women.
An exercise in writing and the mind
Just to write.
To exercise the connections, the synapses that give form to thoughts
widening the pathways
Engage in entropy brain mud settles.
For a moment, between the movement of mind’s marbles
Clashing, I can hear the sound, changing of direction, every collision becomes an origin.
If my brain was a matrix of small glass spheres in a 3 dimensional space,
Energy is only a principle, only seen if attached to a form, when riding a vessel.
Every collision followed by absolute stillness,
Realize this coordinate in space, stiiness.
Not stagnant, nor vacuous, but attentive,
Observed without the superficial commentary your cloudy mind creates
Understanding it is there for infinite perception
IF you cannot stay, then be content, and attentive to the new vector that has begun.
A new collision will surely arise,
Creating a new origin, the collision is the principles crossing paths
The stillness Is the energy transfer, space where principle is not perceived,
The moment I harmonize with my breath, I smile , and play in metamorphosis and transformation
The form is changing
Content, as the clashing fades away, into a void
The new vector is upon us, and so I attend to it,
Not with the principle that was, only a trace of that principle exists,
Attend to this path without clever conclusions,
Just move with the path, and understand without speaking
Like the sound, and rhythm of breath, of a trusted friend, in the stillness of an undisturbed night sky
Away from the city, just the breath of a trusted friend,
Strength, is the discipline to find the stillness, that exists in the vectors,
The points in which principle is transferred,
and the journey
of the marble,
of the mind,
of the breath,
the cycle of the moon,
of the sun,
the egg within the mother,
Simply the discipline, to sleep when you are sleepy
Empty your bladder when it is full,
And eat when you are hungry,
To read this, and to gain nothing
Yet, lose something,
Unconsciously retaining a trace
Of the collision, and vector that is no concern
As we place our mind on the breath, On the stillness
of the path.