Fall

curl_by_schnitzelyne-d6rz86y

Curling.

An autumn leaf

Turns from cooling sun

Embracing essence

Hopeful of survival

Against seasonal odds

Brace against the embraceable

Contain the essence of self

Protect against harsh influence

Survive beyond thirst

Beyond potential comfort

Cling to breath

And blessing

Survive.

 

Words errant

images stolen from the internet

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Change

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‘The hidden world has it’s clouds and rain, but of a different kind.

It’s sky and sunshine are of a different kind.

This is made apparent only to the refined ones – those not deceived by the seeming completeness of the ordinary world’

Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī (1207-1273)

As illusion or reality, or within the eye of the beholder, time is relative. Relative in the sense that how we experience it, from the subjective or objective self; or that other place referred to sometimes as the ‘observing self’*. From each of these places time differs. From each of these places the ability to learn, adapt and change differs.

From the objective self, that recognises the seemingly simple fact that the matter that makes up our unique form can interact with other matter, time is about measurable forces: It takes two minutes to brush the teeth in my gums in my mouth, I know the length of time my tea requires to infuse before removing the teabag and adding milk, sugar or cold water then calculating the measure of time before I attempt to consume the heated liquid to avoid harming my delicate  bodily form. It is formed from physical interactions and the memories of those interactions. This is our sensory self.

From the subjective self, somewhat less precise measurements appear. Emotion enters the frame which creates all manner of differing perspectives on time. Time to heal. Time to calm down. Time to catch the trout that eludes me. Time to write that poem that is on my mind. This kind of time is highly relative. We all need a different amount of time to manage, understand and come to terms with our emotions. This kind of time relates to our culture, our environment, our genes, our experiences, education, beliefs and morals… the list is perhaps in-exhaustive depending on the subjective consciousness of the ‘whom’ that writes it. This is our thinking, feeling, sensorial self.

From the observing self another kind of time entirely is engaged. What is the observing self? Since your birth your cells have died and regenerated. If we were entirely biological beings with no consciousness or ability to form lasting memory networks then we would not retain any sense of ‘I’. We may retain object consciousness on a basic survival level, fire equals potential harm therefore caution is required, but not retain a sense of ‘I am this particular being that holds memories and information pertaining to my subjective existence’. The observing self is a form of consciousness that overarches, or integrates, all of this. It is that I we enter sparingly, some more than others, that sees connections, knowledge, experience and emotion differently. This is our mystical self. The self that observes our subjective (and objective) self.

What real life application does these potentially esoteric observations offer? The ability for growth and change. The ability for intuitive moments and great leaps of consciousness and understanding. The opportunity of an experience beyond the immediate and potentially known ‘self’ within which to temper experience. A ‘place’ beyond the temporal, reaching into something much deeper; that which is called by many names (and religious/spiritual traditions) and is open to all to experience directly, exposing and developing their identity with something greater than any individual, the whole. The whole and our journey of our developmental and eventual evolutionary journey to become. Evolution# comes from small change. Perhaps beginning to understand ourselves provides greater opportunity for progression.

Words and thoughts by errant

*Arthur J. Deikman, M.D: ‘The Observing Self’ Beacon Press, Boston, 1982.

# Not to belittle or confuse this ‘sacred’ scientific word that usually relates to progression or adaptation of a species over many, many generations; not short samples of less than 1-3 generations

Image courtesy of biancamelite

Ear parcel 1: Radioactive; Imagine Dragons This is it, the apocolypse.

Ear parcel II: Sail AWOLNATION; but never kill yourself if you are a different breed…. in my opinion, no angel should die.

Ear parcel III: A somewhat more upbeat link; The Lumineers – Ophelia

If you are feeling alone, talk to someone here relative to your country; I am here, but limited by NZ timezone, I will always read and respond to your message but you have to give me 48hrs to get back to you, ok? Message me anyway.

 

 

 

Intimacy

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To begin to describe another real human being, one would need to dive into the abyss, their abyss. It is so hard to find someone who may get who you are, even with the barest descriptors that can hardly reach the depth of the point. It is an almost unfathomable occurrence. When we do, it is so easy to compete, or misunderstand. Why is it so hard to hear and be heard? Is our ego as, or less, important as the comfort of being understood? Or is our need to be heard more important than our ego? What stands in the way of our ability to navigate the concept of what measure of risk of feeling the discomfort of vulnerabilty equals or outweights the potential reward of experiencing intimacy?

It might be, that those that raised us inadvertantly taught us some behaviours that are not conducive to productive relationships, be those intimate partners, or friendships or other relationships. It may well be that those that raised us inadvertantly provided us with some bad habits because we were vulnerable and impressionable children and our experiences coupled with the cultural expectations of our society became oddly mixed messages in our inner-most selves. It really, actually makes sense. As does knowing yourself as well as you can. Because being honest with your self, genuinely is the keystone to all relationships. Know thy self. Know, thy, self. We change, we outgrow ourselves faster than we have the chance to figure out who, we, are. And there is no other person on earth that you should know better. That is the ultimate failure in all relationships; not knowing oneself, yet expecting the other party to know who you are.

But how do we start an intimate conversation? Either with ourselves or others? I suggest we start with Arthur Aron’s list, lets use his list in an completely unintended way and answer the questions for ourselves… just for fun. I’ll go first:

  1. Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?

Oh my, doesn’t this depend upon sooooo many things!? What music is playing? What I have I had to drink? Whose company am I in? What are the rules? Must they be living or are the dead ok? I will answer from the right here, right now…

I would invite Iesous, I could invite Persian or Eastern philosphers or later philosphers, but in all honesty I would like to speak directly to Iesous, better known as Yeshua or Jesus. I have a lot of questions for him. He seems to have genuinely existed as an historical person, he obviously exists as a person of the highest Christian regard. I’d like to ask him how he feels, comparatively, about being called a Judaic rebel and all manner of things under the post-crucifixion sun. Yes, I’d quite like to have a chat with the man himself.

errant.

Ear parcel I: Alone Together, Chet Baker

Ear parcel II: Little Talks – of Monsters and Men

Image ‘intimacy vol.2’ courtesy of dorry on deviantart

 

 

Slip by

from_light_into_darkness_by_krzysztofjedrzejak-d6sztcj

I want you to slip past my defences. But this isn’t a storybook fantasy where you know what I need and I allow it all to happen because it is perfect. In order let you in, I must first know, really know what my defences are. Why do I block you with apparent indifference or casual aloofness? When that reaction does not reflect my desire for you to be as close as close can be, nor reflect my need to understand why you might want something that doesn’t sit right with me, that I have, oh so aloofly agreed too with questioning words burning in my throat. Questions that I turn over, this way and that way, finding bitter acceptance without risking the asking. I want you to slip past my defences but for that to happen, I need to be honest with myself, dismantle my defences that stifle me rather than keep me safe, then I can truly begin to allow you in.

canines_teeth_by_democreate-d5n77ih

My past gnaws at me in my dreams, dancing histories repeating, hinting at a path to change, if only the courage can be roused within.

Words: Errant Satiety

Earparcel (and explanation for said earparcel; the song, according to the writers, is about vulnerability, “It’s a song about an imaginary friend who’s gonna come and save you from yourself.” Noel Gallagher)

Image 1 

Image 2

Image 3

 

Wild Rose

Rose

My grandmother was named Rose, she lived in the wild and tamed three sons.

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“There was something about him that she wanted to learn, grow into, and hide in, where she could turn away from being an adult. There was some little waltz in the way he spoke to her and the way he thought.”

The English Patient, Michael Ondaatje.

Rose 1934

I promised to tell you how one falls in love.

The wild poem is a substitute

For the women one loves

Or ought to love,

One wild rhapsody

A fake for another

 

wild_rose_by_vulezvrk

“I believe this. When we meet those we fall in love with, there is an aspect of our spirit that is historian, a bit of a pedant who reminisces or remembers a meeting when the other has passed by innocently… but all parts of the body must be ready for the other, all atoms must jump in one direction for desire to occur.”
Michael Ondaatje, Author of The English Patient

 

Images:

  1. Featured image ‘Wild Rose’ by ideea on deviantart
  2. Image one: Rose and Eric courtesy of Errant Satiety
  3. Image two: ‘The Weeping Rose’ by KoAn72 on deviantart
  4. Image three: Rose and Eric’s best friend courtesy of Errant Satiety
  5. Image four: ‘Wild Rose’ by vulezvrk on deviantart

 

 

Limbering up.

routine_malaise_by_shesabromide-d3d5vzq

Stretching out of the silence, through the torpor, the ache, the awe… beginning to move toward the lyrical mind. There has been a enormous gulf that is impossible to fill, there is only one way to explore it…  and that is by being present, so once again, here I am.

words: errant satiety

images: Main image Routine Malaise; featured image photophobia both by ShesABromide on deviantart

He knows…

There have been a number of posts by gorgeous men in our wordpress community that have moved me deeply this past week or so … what to do but reblog/link to them with a song that feels fitting for me (I love the lyrics, it’s a little sad though). I love reading the male perspective of life, love and art. Each of these fine gentlemen have a unique and beautiful way of approaching their lives with potent love… in no particular order…

A Faded Romantic’s Notebook – ‘Lost in Translation’

Wuji Seshat Nibada – ‘Until His Chisel Bequeaths’

Mr. Modigliani – ‘Giving vs Taking’

Erik S Lehman – ‘That Sigh’

Richard Ankers – ‘Relentless’