tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Marilyn Monroe Goddess)


In a past life I must have been cruel.

I do not mean a past life I can only dream. A dream in which might be recalled the love between Alexander and Hephaestion. No, not just a dream.

I mean a past life, that at times, feels like yesterday.

Days like these I find myself confronted by such a life; of my past. Seeing straight through the mask of self prepared so carefully within the depths of craved, perhaps depraved, acceptance. Leaving me to wonder what good, if any, I may or may not have provided.

In the eyes of wonder, the waves of cold doubt crash into me. Cold I use to possess. As if there was some form of self that deserved to be possessed by such cold.

A cold that forces you to crawl inside the womb of your anxieties, wrestle your demons, question your value, and die ... unto your own visions of self, repeatedly. Until the very moment there is nothing left to die unto.

Awakening.

Recognizing the very lack of definition with which you are born. In this life, and the next. In whatever moment you finally decide to live, that is.

~TigrisSky

The Seasons

Tue, Feb. 14th, 2017 08:20
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Marilyn Monroe Goddess)
Much of our theatrical entertainment celebrates the fantasy that the "bad" guys get their comeuppance and the "good" guys are left feeling vindicated. However much I wish to accept this portrait as some kind of truth, I cannot help but remember a key lesson, of which a major in mass communications provides; it is not the ordinary which serves to entertain but the extraordinary.

The extraordinary is also how stars explode and life forms from the dust.

Like a Phoenix from the ashes, life rises, regardless the outcome of right over wrong. You can't direct the wind, but you can adjust your sails. With love, unconditional.



You can only trust adjusting your sails as far out as the waves will take you without tossing you overboard. So it is discovered that success depends on the size of your confidence as it comes to such matters of the heart.

To deeply love is to truly see the presentation of self without condition. Conditions exist within the judgments and expectations that love just can't seem to forgive. Love, unconditional, forgives all.

Loving conditions keep the full experience of life locked, hidden, lost. The only choice left; to give up or push on.

Continue following the path which may allow you to achieve the ability to love, unconditional. Along this path confidence grows allowing the sails to carry ever farther out to sea.

Along the way we are convinced of the duality this thing called life shares with death. As if Apollo where not the sum of Dionysos, simply because one restricts while the other expands. Whom takes which role is portrayed as a seasonal affair. How quick it is forgot, the seasons are not simply determined by the the time of the year.

It is not always the dark which expands and the light which restricts. It is not always the light which expands and the dark which restricts. Growth and stagnation can be found in any direction; the wind through the sails, the fire of the heart, the crash of the waves against bare feet stepping upon the sandy shore.

So it is we are brought into this game of survival. Taught the difference between right and wrong. Given preference to life over death. Gifted the worry of legacy. Our success determined by a society running away from being. Driven by the obsession of doing. Believing that the bad guys get their comeuppance and the good guys their vindication.

Meanwhile, constant change washes over us. The good becomes bad. The bad becomes good. The forces of nature overwhelm the choice of which is current and which is dying.

Leaving us with only one truth, one choice, to stagnate or to grow.

Is this the answer? I do not know with any certainty that their even is an answer. Just choice.

~TigrisSky
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (America)


"...when it was introduced as a holiday by Abraham Lincoln during the Civil War, there was no mention of pilgrims and Native people or food or pumpkins or anything like that. It was simply a day for families to be together and mourn their dead and be grateful for the living." ~Roxanne Dunbar Ortiz, historian

History is defined by the hubris of humanity to shape the world in it's image. There is, in all things traditionally celebrated, an underlying ugliness to it's creation -- no matter the intent with which it is forged.

So it is, through imperfect means, that a hidden vestige of beauty can be found to honor. Intent can be set to manifest, like a phoenix, a way forward from the ashes of our hubris. Lead by our ability to simply be -- present, here, now, together -- grateful.

Whom do you mourn and whom are you grateful for? What future will be envisioned and shared by those whom you gather with? What history and reflection of tradition will be enabled and recognized?

May I hope for and experience truth. May I be an expression of the light of understanding that where we have been is so much less than where we are. May I embrace the knowledge that it is the dark which shapes the light; for without it there is no need to shine. May I exude gratefulness for the time I am granted under this Earthly Sun.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

~TigrisSky
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Savitri)
A friend, of similar life disposition, lays in a care facility a month after surgery, wondering what all was done wrong and if it can be fixed. Most importantly, if comfort and lack of pain can be experienced again.

Selfishly I debate my own place in the future of such experience. I find myself hoping there will be someone there to advocate for me. I find myself hoping I never need such work done. I begin to realize more and more the importance of a regime of exercise that is not impactful but fluid.

Of maintaining a weight an older set of bones can withstand.

Of spending more time with people who make things happen and less with those who complain about things happening.

Of spending more time in contemplation of expanded death with dignity rights which will encompass exactly what I need, exactly when I need it. Which, lucky for me, is not exactly this moment.

Although one can never know when exactly this moment will be.

In this moment one can hope for ... ecstasy.

That which keeps all focus lost to such worried reality. That which keeps one connected to all and All. Connected to the full experience of self, less ego.

The drums, the guitar, a brush in my hand, a smile from love, a chaos of words spilling from head to pen, and sometimes just the closeness of a friend; all and All, pushing me higher, ever closer to ... ecstasy.

The most base to the most existential points on Maslow's Hierarchy of needs are attained through ecstasy.

So many are not willing to attempt extending their reach for ecstasy. Instead just repeating, the most base of ecstacic connection, while dismissing the power to be ... whole.

Lost ... in the simplicity of the chase. Clinging to the feeling this moment creates.

Missing altogether the power of indescribable understanding of all and All which only a higher frequency connection allows.

Thus choosing instead the simplicity of the chase and the feeling this moment creates.

Living in, "If I could just recreate."

The present can be held for only so long. As the present stops coming, the past stops directing, and ...

Tick

Tick

Tock

Awaken.

To the decision.

Chase tradition?

Or step into the next chamber of God.

For what is ecstasy but the ability to halt time and fully connect.


Be.

Here.

Now.


I promise. It is deeper than now. Yet nothing more powerful.

Salvation ...



~TigrisSky
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Marilyn Monroe Goddess)


I contemplate becoming that woman who simply leaves it all behind. I don't mean the woman who packs up her things and uses her passport to disappear. No, not simply the woman who starts over somewhere else, hopeful in the new adventure she has stepped into.

No. Not that woman.

I contemplate becoming the woman who takes too many pills, letting go completely of everything she ever was or could become.

It isn't because I am not grateful. It is not because I cannot see the beauty of the world around me. I certainly am. I certainly can.

I understand, however, that the world doesn't need me in it. It will never matter that I was here. I will never do anything, be anything, accomplish anything.

If I reach old age I will be left to hope that I have enough monetary value for society to place me in a care home. I will be left to hope that this care home offers more than bed sores and a television that helps ignore.

In the interim of moving towards the hope of that reality, the darker and harder it all gets. Yet still, life blooms around me and I am nothing if not grateful for the experience, the beauty, and above all else, the love.

It is all so futile though, constantly in search of hope for a momentary experience of joy, fulfillment, satisfaction, accomplishment ... whatever it is we need to be fully present and savor what it is we are going through.

Addiction. Habit. Comfort. Ritual. Security. Conformity. All the things that bring some fleeting sense of worth in continuing on accepting the drive life has, to simply be alive.

It isn't so much that I am depressed, as it is I recognize the truth and just don't want to play the game anymore.

The battle of good and evil. In a world where everyone seems to think they are right, as if their existence has some sort of importance in regards to the overall outcome of things. This is what creates such a battle. Before empires, before conquests, before territory, there was no good versus evil, just life.

I cling to the simplistic beauty that is life, but society demands so much more and cares so little for life. I feel deeply the constant bombardment of hatred for life, extraneously displayed when one cannot fit any of the molds society requests.

I certainly cannot fit the molds. So it is the value of my life is obsolete here.

Just ask anyone you find yourself better than.

Just ask yourself in the moment any emotion associated to fear of another human sets itself inside you. For it is in that moment the molds of society you cling to shine brightest. It is in this moment life is no longer simply life, but instead a cancer. A cancer learning and growing en masse, clinging to life for no more than a means to feed itself and keep itself growing.

Life continues to move farther and farther away from nature, it's Creator. Spiraling deep inside the idea of individualism, separatism, self-importance, which in itself is the creator of the delusion of good and evil. In turn creating the molds which define such concepts. The molds which define the society in which we live.

The molds in which I will never fit.

~TigressSky

p.s. This is not a cry for help. I am not in danger of hurting myself. Seriously. Sincerely.
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)
I am not certain whether to count this past moontime as 3 weeks late or I missed a month and am 1 week early. I will find out for sure next week, depending on if I start my moontime as expected or not then.

I asked the doctor about this at the beginning of the year, she took some blood and nothing more came from it.

I'm 38. It doesn't seem like menopause should be hitting me so early. Perhaps it is.

I know I definitely do not want children, because even when I spend some time pining a little, soon enough I am thankful for my freedom. I mean come the fuck on, if my dog and cat didn't talk to me they would starve to death! Although I suppose a baby screams and talks eventually to.

I kinda just want to be done with the whole moontime thing. Yet at the same time I know the coming end is a sign of aging, a loss of a part of me that once had the opportunity to bring forth something in this world, a loss of a part of me that was once desirable and intriguing, a step towards being seen less and less, not to mention becoming worth less and less, to the world around me ...



I have done nothing of value to confront my disappearance altogether.

Teaching myself to cope with slowly being altogether forgotten sucks, but is necessary.

On the flipside, pushing myself to do something of value is a crazy motivator. One that, with age, contains a willingness to take less risk while offering an incentive towards adventurous workings of creative skill and imagination to fucking pull something off. Like an assignment I have waited until the last minute to start working on.

Now I just have to figure out how to tell the "fraud police" to fuck off -- they seem to be the keepers of the 'you can't do the thing, you are such a fake no nothing nobody' keys I remain caged within.

Either or, I will eventually simply just disappear from this world - in one instance I will be easily forgettable, in another, perhaps I will be immortal; or at least my memory will out live me.

~TigrisSky
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)

↑ ↑ ↑ YES. PLAY ME. PLAY ME NOW. ↑ ↑ ↑





Rush Hour
~TigressSky © July 17, 2015

What has my life become
Sitting in this cube
Impatiently waiting to experience
Rush hour
To become more
Exhausted and frustrated
A moment to sleep it all away
Then awaken to experience
Rush hour
And start this process anew

This isn't where I ever imagined I would be
In a high rise
Next to I-84
Wishing I had done something
Anything at all
That would have taken me
Anywhere but here

When I lose that drive
That tells me I can matter
I can make a difference
To someone or something
Great or small in this world
I can be
Something
More than this moment
Then
It is over
The grand 'They' have finally gotten me
The 'Man' keeping me down
Yes master I adhere

Yet is it man
Or is it the self
That keeps me confined in this nothingness
A meaningless task
Shuffling electronic information
From here to there
Keeping people imprisoned
To the importance
Of receiving acceptance
From the world
Acceptance granted by a printout
Of proof of who they are
Without it they will be allowed
Access to nothing of value
Defined by society
The mastermind controlling
Such proof of you
Of your very own existence

It is all so simple to see
Yet kept busy we are left blind
To the history of where
When, why, and how
This all became
And how simply different
It could all be
How simply simple
It could all be
How our very evolution
Is the de-evolution of life

Is it time for revolution
Inside and out
An awakening to selflessness
Unconditional love
Peace

Or is it an impossibility
Of reality
To be so
Free