stain

there are so many systems, objects, events, focuses of attention, celebrations, discourses, basic necessities that if followed completely through, to their sourcing from the earth - which, please let us not forget what has already been total eclipsed blood moon-ed forgotten, that is earth is where all, literally even that rock of the moon, all but the sun - stored inside all on the earth - and asteroids, comes from and there the argument is that space is the place from whence all, even the earth, came - has pain and suffering and denial and greed and illusion and delusion and power and disempowerment and captivity and manipulation and exploitation. 

the human project of civilization by the year of 2023 is a well, and the well is poisoned. water does not differentiate between itself. when something is added to some of it, it is added to all of it. 

so there are things i need to stay alive. to be happy. to be comfortable. and i can think of growing my own vegetables and herbs, to what degree i am able, as one of the only examples of something that if i walked the trail of its entire process, coming into existence, into my life, i might not find something so horrific to another person or creature or the planet that i have to gather up all of the particles into a jar and bury the jar and try to plant a flower atop it but the dirt and the flower and the roots and the jar and the particles each make up and indeed are in and indeed are, my mind. 

the psychic force of the mind as opposed to the grey matter soft layer on layer wetted together floating in fluid of the brain is obvious, simple to differentiate and impossible to separate. so i cannot speak to any scientific specifics other than the intuitive notions and knowledge i have from having both a brain and a mind. something about the mind is that once an idea or truth or answer or image it creates an original imprint, mark, is still there. much as a stain on upholstery. it can be layered atop of but an irreversible fusion has occurred. 

this happens with the soul as well. it is what helen frankenthaler was acting out as a painter.

when pluto changes signs it creates a gradient in time and experience. ingressing then retrograding, maybe multiple times. a sort of wash, slowly pulling the new hues forward and then retreating over them with another layer and a little pigment of the previous color and then pulling them together at that edge until there is no edge, no line but something like what does and does not happen when you drive across the continental us which is forest turns to mountain turns to prairie turns to desert turns to mountains. there are some tear-jerking distinctions, true literal lines where one landscape begins and the other ceases, but with that much space often you look up to find yourself in a entirely different picture than the one you swore you were in, looking up even if you were the one driving.

between capricon and aquarius there is plenty to be said. they are radically dissimalar. as anything on this earth can be dissimilar since it all comes from the same place and is filtered through the same atmosphere. yet for the sake of clarity lets say that capricorn is the oldest, deepest, core of the earth kind of molten rock and the grand canyon and all of the ruins scattered about the world of ancient ways and notions of how to be built by people by the clay and elements of the land around them. stones stacked and bricks made of sand and water. done with hands. done with feet. and then aquarius comes along and gives pulleys, maybe scaffolding. they seem like the fruits of the gradient. some of the best moments are the merging in-between of colors and peoples and times. and here we are in one of those places. 

i want to try to find the beautiful gradient of this time. because right now, the best example i can find of the overlap is the emerging consciousness around the horrifically redundant and redundantly horrific conditions and happenings and prices paid for our rechargeable battery powered devices to which we are giving and on which we are betting our entire futures. the people of the congo who's land holds the riches of the future in cobalt, caught up in powering our present, this post, your convenience, with their bodies. it is the gradient because it is deep down in the earth down in a mine, for the electric, neuro-networked hyper-abstract informational set of values, standards of relation, knowledge of our selves: body / mind / heart / ego. 

but also there is no waxing poetic about it. and i cannot begin to comprehend. and i am moved. and i am complicit. and i get worked up. and i do nothing. and i feel small. and i feel godlike. and i wish something were different. and everything keeps being tainted. and so if all of it is, poisoned, tainted - but not stained, that is an act, while in some circles considered ruinous, of sacred imprint - then it is at the very least my responsibility to excuse myself from the most poisoned systems which are entirely optional.  even if they flick like a bic some kind of firey fun inside of me. because there is so much that to merely survive we cannot opt out of but which is completely twisted and distorted and rotten. 

abstinence makes the heart grow fonder. makes everything grow colder. makes your perspective much clearer. and then you can do. and do with all the vigor life is for. really do and be and become what you believe in. there is holy holy ecstatic life to be found outside of convenience. it does not have to be devoid of fun or pleasure or debauchery or hedonism or indulgence or frivolity, the question is just at what and who's cost? 

i want the stain of the reality's inky truth on my mind and the stain of the juice of life on my soul.