Drink Deep, The Water Of Life!

For as on this Earth, so it is in ALL manifestation:
      Life THRIVES at the Boundaries;
      Life FLOWERS in Contradiction.

Divine Realms Blossom like infinite multi-dimensional fractals,
      Aglitter with Energy,
      ALIVE with Intelligence.

Always Brightest at the Boundaries,
      Always Moving, Ebb and Flow.
             Always Changing, Effect, Affect.

Drink Deep, The Water Of Life!
      Seed to Flower; Flower to Seed.
            Foliate, then Concentrate,
                  Bundle, then Unfold.

Earth and Heaven,
      Hope and Promise,
            Passions, Hot and Cold.
                  Cycling, Cycling . . .

Two legs propel the pump!
      Yin and Yang.
Two hands turn the Wheel!
      Man and God.

Drink Deep, The Water Of Life!
      For in It's Flow, we have our Being.

Drink Deep, The Water Of Life!
      For in our Being, It has It's Flow.

Drink Deep, The Water Of Life!
      Of Form, Force, Will Interchanging . . .

In Reverance, Give Thanks to that which Loves.
In Wonder, Give Thanks to that which is Loved.
In Awe, Give Thanks to that which Abides,
      Timeless and Aware.
For Unihipili, Uhane, Aumakua
John Vance Yeiral

T U R N I N G S

Out of darkness comes light,
First few souls do see it.
It's not that it's not bright,
We like Dark to deceive us.

Out of Day soon comes Night,
Ever travelling round;
Which side's actually up?
That's a thought to confound.

Be Light . . . (or Dark) . . . fine!
It's a matter of choices.
Don't forget it's all 'Real',
Formed by billions of voices.

All BE-ing like crazy,
Caught up in the Thrall.
Let True Seeing grow hazy,
And we'll All take the Fall.

Earth's been round awhile,
Mostly hazardous to health.
These few thousands of years
Are a gift of great wealth.

Such a glorious planet,
So green and so sweet;
Custodians! we're napping,
Reproducing; asleep.

When a herd over-grazes,
A die-off will come.
civilization's not working,
If we all lose our Home.

Great Mother, remind us,
Like you've done before.
It's a shame we're so stupored,
Or we'd see what's in store.

We caretake, at best,
I see no one who owns.
At least not for long,
For we all become bones.

Were it Humans alone:
A survivable bother.
Comes of too many souls,
in the flesh all together.

It takes many eons,
To fine tune these Species.
What a shame to lose all,
What a dinner of feces.

But of course it's all relative,
This Soul-in-flesh living.
When we Take with Awareness,
We're actually Giving.

Awaken! Awaken!
For self-preservation.
Or not, if you choose.
Earth's one big Reservation.

A trail of tears walked,
Some may say in frustration.
Bound in fleshly returnings,
Forgotten:  Salvation.

To the Source we'll return,
We are Souls in the making.
As vital as Old Ones,
Whose places we're taking.

Tho' we wriggle and squirm,
On the day of our borning.
Too soon comes the time
When we see our last Morning.

For nothing is static,
The Wheel ever turns.
Reaching higher and higher,
As God's Soul Fire burns.

On the edge of disaster,
Our bright shining hour.
Will we make it this time?
Or fall back, Oh how dour.

As sweet as Life is,
In surfeit, it can sour.
Self-pity's the trap
Where we squander our Power.

But burning inside us,
That bright shining Star;
Stands outside of the time-stream,
Into which we all flower.

All is Good, all is Right,
Cloaked in Spirit's great Love,
Unless we turn from It,
Cast our sight from Above.

And the day of our Dying,
When all's said and done.
The surprise of Creation:
Once again, we've begun.

        John Vance Yeiral

We are beings of light, 'photonic' in nature
(in a multidimensional sense), and basically unbounded.
The coherence of our thought processes, and indeed,
our basic 'permanence' outside the timestream,
is engendered by emanations of pure mentation
from 'higher' realms,
with higher energies, and vaster intelligences.
We are creatures of pure energy
when fully in our natural environment,
and the seat of our consciousness
(and the greatest portion of our identity) remains there always.
We are capable of spanning numberless dimensions,
some of which happen to be 'physical' in nature.
With suitable mental 'adjustments' (aberrations),
we may experience the rich,
but constrained 'reality' that 3 spatial dimensions affords.
All consciousness is one;
however below a certain level of awareness,
nodes more distant (in terms of connectedness or 'soul hops')
are less accessible to us in our state of 'reduced' sentience.
This restriction is necessary to maintain the fiction of limited being,
and consequently the structural coherence of space-time,
that stage upon which we spin our dramas (our dreams)
of physical life.
Too many gods, no longer constrained by the laws of 'nature',
spoil the play.  So we conveniently forget who we ourselves are, and block the memory of our intimate history (at other levels) with those souls with whom we interact.  This creates a numbness that allows us to experience the spectrum of roles available to us, from minion of Evil to defender of the Light, without permanently damaging our core sanity.  To beings not native to the 'intensity' of physical life, experience is the paramount goal, without regard to qualifications of pleasure and pain, good and bad, life and death.  All is relevant, all equally valid, 'spinless' from our higher self's point of view (and perception).  Tragedy is relative; so is triumph.

We are, in effect remote, self willed, data retrieval units,
artificially constrained (for the most part)
by the parameters of the environment into which we voluntarily have ventured.
We are 'fingers of God',
noodling beneath the surface of the river of physical reality,
into regions where energy congeals into matter,
and the galaxies wend their stately pavane.
Once committed, once enmeshed in the physical,
we must complete our term of service;
we can't get off this E ticket ride
until our dance card has been completed,
our obligations satisfied,
and we have integrated our hard earned knowledge into wisdom,
no matter how many births and deaths it takes.
We do not have souls;
we ARE souls, timelessly connected to hierarchies of consciousness,
always potentially our vaster selves.
Deep in our Souls, we have a basic fear of the 'gods',
because we know the tragic folly of untutored, immature godhood on Earth.
And so we go to school, we play the game,
stumbling in blind ignorance into each other,
causing pain and pleasure, creating and destroying,
attempting to recreate some semblance of the structure
of our own dimly remembered home,
catching déjà vu glimpses of that vastness
which lies beyond the dazzling Footlights of the Human stage,
almost Remembering who we truly are, almost hearing the echoes of other roles we've played,
which continually bounce beneath the surface of our conscious mind,
tantalizing, momentary tastes of our true reality, mostly forgotten.
We are an ocean of awareness, temporarily embodied in a teacup.
This is our root conundrum, this is what we must [not?] remember!