egging around

Life is about sitting on an egg, — partially.

When you’re sitting on top of an egg,
– and be honest, I think we are all trying to hatch something, –
and nothing happens for too long,
there is something wrong with the egg you’re sitting on.

Nothing is wrong with you, — of course not.
You did your time and probably more than was necessary.

No bird sits on an egg longer than they intrinsically know they have to, and neither should we.

If you want to bring something about:
manifest something,
change your circumstance, change your beingness.
If nothing happens,
get off and find another egg.

If you water a seed or seedling and it doesn’t grow,
you don’t continue indefinitely, do you?
Cui bono?
There must be a benefit; else, what are you doing it for?

Maybe herein lies the problem:
We are the egg and the hen.
Between being both we get side-tracked.
We hen around when we should also egg around.
And both hen and egg have a best before date too.
Or, perhaps our egg got swapped while we were inattentive or in cloud-cuckoo-land. We might be sitting on a dinosaur egg that takes epochs to hatch,
and we only have a human lifetime.
Another more sinister reason could be that there is no egg for us. A hiccup in nature, an oversight, or perhaps a deliberate message of:
“You are wasting your time here, you should be somewhere else, sorry (hu)man, internal error, – reboot.”

I don’t think sitting on an egg is that much fun,
especially when the dream of what that egg was supposed to become has lost its verve.

In the process of incubation and brooding, you have probably also attracted a severe bout of eggshaustion.
Rest is advised but time is limited because it is now already ‘time minus one egg’.

Time and eggs clearly have some agreement.
Maybe ten time units are one egg unit, or who knows?
And, you are entering into major guesswork as to how many time and egg units are available to you.

At this stage of disillusionment with reality and eggs, you might want to run away to an island and just hangout and relax.

When that escape starts feeling like another egg, is it now the right egg? There’s nobody really around that could answer that question. Eggvisors are few and far between, if not entirely mythical. And, other islanders egging it out don’t strike you as the right reference model.

It is not inconceivable that at this moment you might decide,
“WTF, I’ll just grab an egg that looks nice and sit on it and see.”

The point is that when that first egg doesn’t hatch
and we finally decide to move on to another egg,
unless some inbuilt direction finder kicks in
and sets our compass pointing north again in our life,
we could become abandoned eggs or hens without a head.

Now, the second (nth) time around,
we have to apply extra amped-up effort and employ every ounce of skill and wisdom to bring our life together and make sense of it,
— and not accept a watered-down make-believe or a shortlived fake brochure version, —
so we can find that satisfaction which is inherent when our right egg hatches.

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Defrost

pain-smoke-death

My heart screams. My brain finds no rest.

I have to speak out, and simultaneously I condemn any ridiculous arguments that attempt to justify harming even ONE human being in the process.
(i.e. It is absurd to assume that everyone nearing the fence in the Gaza strip is a Hamas terrorist?)

I see mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters and loved ones in hellish agony. All of this has found echo in my head. Images of the affected in this progressive hate saga between Israelis & Palestinians continually interrupt my whole stream of consciousness when awake and asleep.

The future is for the young first, and only then it is for the rest of us. Alas, there is no future in this case. There is only hate and pain and segregation. Known also as Apartheid, this system forcefully singles out a group of people in the most demeaning, derogatory, insensitive, insulting and inhumane way. As is proven once more here, such systems are upheld by the powerful and the victims are depicted as the villains, who one has to be protected from at all cost, even by murder.

The world is mostly ruled by the old and stubborn who don’t waver from their stance and who continually garner support for what they think is the rightful cause, bending the ear of those who elected them.

When rulers bring war and destruction and hate instead of wisdom, love and peace, then you know they are the wrong leaders.

My roots reach deep into two countries: South Africa and Germany. Both have experienced the worst of humanity. The rainbow also doesn’t shine every day in our rainbow nation but the rainbow will forever be in our minds when we remember the atrocities of the past.

An answer can never be found in war, fences, concentration camps and human abuse.

Also, no answers are found when these leaders sit together because they will never agree as long as they insist on playing chess.

The solution lies with the young and innocent and the dreamers, thinkers and innovators.
They have to sit together and define what they want because the world belongs to them, and not to the warring, dead of conscience fanatics tainted with the brush of history, self-righteousness and other ills.

Analysing history, as we are known to do, should teach us how to deal with the future. Why don’t we get it?
All naysayers out there have a closer look at the miraculous, peaceful transformation of South Africa.

Where there is a will there is a way!

What is immediately required is a human bridge, an influx of support from all nations to stand with the oppressed, confused and petrified.

“Bring the future back to those who have lost it.”

I call on all in the world, young and old, to do this for those who suffer.

The promise of life only exists if you have a future.

“A denied future is dead life.”

Could any conscience live with such a thought any longer than a moment, let alone decades?

Let there be a human curtain made out of every living fabric that says: ‘Stop and change.’
Dismantle the barricades, the obstructions, the walls and fences and melt the ice of the frozen.

The time to forcefully exclude and deny has no space in the 21st century.

Here is an appeal to the big operators, profit-machines, life-changers, innovators and altruists and philanthropists, to dedicate a paragraph in a chapter of their book in their life to aid in solving this human catastrophe now. The affected parties can’t solve it: the UN can’t, and other nations can’t but the people of the world can. Some things are beyond governing bodies; they are in the individual hands of humanity across all and any divide.

This is an appeal to all the young and spirited and compassionate, — who cannot sleep another night just like I at 0230 this morning, — to create a tsunami, an avalanche, an eruption of change through their presence and their voice.

Let the airlines offer free tickets for this human cause. Let the food companies and all industries that make huge profits provide shelter and food for those heeding the cause.

Let it be a humanitarian evolution. Call it the Sunrise of Humanity. Let all nations congregate where weapons currently decide human fate. Let the flags of 190+ nations stare down any aggression from either side.

Will you shoot my flag?

May every soldier with a weapon become aware not only of the responsibility to his country/people but also the responsibility to humanity.

Could you bear the burden for the rest of your life of being a traitor to any one of them?

Let us be part of this movement lest we want to be judged for non-action when our conscience faces its last breath.

Do something. Anything. Everybody, do it. Make music, write, paint, go there…,we have to roll that drama over and bring those, who had the unimaginable happen in the life of their ancestors, to the realization of their inhumane actions. History is wagging a very irritated finger.

My old Zulu friend Jameson ‘Umkuhlu’ Mthembu speaks from deep within his wise soul when he says,

umkuhlu1

 

 

“Don’t put a fridge by your heart,”

 

 

 

…not for longer than a few hours or at most a day or two.

“Everyone:  your time is up,”

that is quite obvious to all and yourself.

One of the critical human lessons and actions towards progress is that you have to put ‘stuff’ behind you in order to move forward. — Do it!

It is time to defrost.

*Picture from AFP on http://www.spiegel.de

died it

He believed, then doubted, then died it

 
Creativity was his door to become more

Poetry and prose were the tears that he cried,

  and he toiled with the question:

What was it all for?

 

Doubt was the dust

  infiltrating even his purest intention

Now he lies spent like rain in the grass,

  tears on a tissue, lipstick on a glass

Not even the universe affords him attention

 

He always believed too much,

  and proof was never important as such

If he liked it, he deemed it to be true,

  even if experts were cleverer and knew

 

His world, perhaps, was slightly askew

 

Belief was like a train:

Up front the idea, creditability and fame

…so far so good

Followed by wagons of responsibilities,

  too many to name

…that was the drudge

Suddenly a yardstick emerged

  with which he was judged (his ideas)

 

Yes, he believed a lot

But, certainly didn’t want to be put on the spot

  for that which he called ‘the smoke from his pot’

It wasn’t religion or philosophy or such,

  they were ideas,

  life’s attempts at art with a smudge

 

Believing was more like following a trail

Not weighing each thought or step on a scale

T'was an indication of an approximate direction,

  and was prone to frequent correction

 

Believing and doubting were forever composing,

One minute blissfully flying over harmonies crest,

  euphorically losing control in the zest

and then,

  crashing into the trough of Wagner’s gloomiest best

He was cog and engine in a perpetually opposing quest

 

Shattered belief, triumphant doubt,

  sometimes one or the other acted out

A farmer of conflict, a dreamer of hope,

  ever the next wave of life should puzzle it out

 

Liberally sown by doubt the seeds of conflict abound

That’s why believing in dreams is so very allowed

But,
 
  dreams are also the food 

  which conflict gobbles to sprout

  and once it has grown

  it smothers the dreams

  so they lose the belief in their own

 

If life was nurtured by believing in dreams,

  no matter how irrational they seemed

and doubt destroys them with such might

  undoubdetly, he thought, he had just died

96-hour days

I mean you read a lot. A hell of a lot.

One copy of yourself should be dedicated to reading 24-hours a day and provide feedback to yourself. It should then populate that infinite dormant memory in your head, indexing everything and getting on with it, ploughing through all that is readable and available, at thought-speed, — forget about sluggish light-speed, we have very (much) surpassed that.

You see a lot too. Maybe even more than you read. But, don’t underestimate the written word. With reading also comes seeing.

There is so much out there that you actually don’t have to think ever again. It’s all been said and it’s all been thought. And what remains, surely, is in a pipeline somewhere to be revealed shortly (on Netflix or some blog or in a pub).

And, the more I read and see, truly I feel, the dumber I get. Why? Because in some way by having all this input I don’t have any output anymore. I do, but it’s others’ thoughts, words and ideas.

I clearly know that I have to extend my 24-hour day. I have to create parallel days and still manage everything even if it is four-fold now. But, I don’t want to be a manager. No, shit no! I want to be involved in every little bit of those multiple 24-hour days, and I also want to get on with other stuff that interests me. I want to spend hours flying, soaring in the air, 3k feet above the ground, or landing in my neighbor farmers backyard on a penny for a cup of Wienermischung Arabica coffee. I want to immerse myself in music and play it and compose. I want to travel to every remote and beautiful corner of this magnificent continent called Africa in my Land Cruiser. I have a love affair with Africa and another one with another one. I have to create, split, multiply and slice the time I have available.

I literally have to drag myself away from the latest doing, reading and seeing, — which I am blatantly honest about, is all extremely enjoyable, — back into my chambers, close the door behind me and open the one in front of me. The one that opens into my world from my mind. You see, here goes another 24-hour day.

My function in life, — having come to this astounding realization of the ninety-six hour day requirement, — is not to write more initially. We have agreed that there is too much already for the twenty-four hour limited human being.

We have to find ways to condense time, expand time, multiply time, fornicate time, forget time, — ignore it, any which way, — and get more done in the moment of life we have so we can absorb, digest, create more and become infinitely more of ourself.

What other point could there conceivably be to continue with life once such a revelation has shone upon us, but to invent new methods and aspire to hitherto unknown heights of accomplishing the impossible?

Do you really want to slip back into your twenty-four hour drudge-day which practically gives you perhaps two hours to do your stuff, instead of figuring out some multi-parallel reality?

Fine, go for it. You won’t find me in that asylum.

Yes, there are schools of thought that we should do one thing and one thing only at a time in order to do them properly. (utter rubbish loser talk) Admittely, I have tried and I have made a mess of it. My first novel, a fictional memoir called ‘beyond Cloudia,’ touches on the subject. And, there are always those ‘I told you so’ encouraging cheer leaders. Instead of getting multiple things done, nothing was finished, except the bottle of red wine or the J, in the end. That however is no sentence not to try again, more evolved, and with better or more Jwine. I don’t smoke so there is no J in my wine.

The current steam locomotive of progress has become terribly, frustratingly slow and this has watered the seed for further exploration into the matter of parallel 24-hour days, or, at least one ninty-six hour day to start with.

Very few things, if any, have ever worked the first time around. How many rockets have gone up in smoke? Right. We have to start somewhere.

I think we have to be blind movers sometimes, believing that our movement gets us there, although we can’t see it, or explain the logic behind our (absurd) behavior .

 

 

 

of über-super-consciousness

Would you believe that every once in a while something happens in our life that was born in another reality and filters through into our present-now?
Unless you experience such a contact from the ‘other’ side you could, like me, be largely ignorant of its existence.

What is another reality, if, as we have been taught, there can only be this one?
All my life I have been puzzled by deeper questions which just like my attempts at Rubik’s Cube, have gone unsolved and unanswered by me. And then, one day, you are presented with an indisputable event.

Reality is where I am conscious. Right? Actually yes.

I have irrefutable proof now that there is more to consciousness than I have ever considered it to be. I know it’s lame and scientifically worthless. However, this illuminating experience has made me a convert.

Being so entrenched and absorbed in our reality, where is there time and the will to think about such ‘far-out’ stuff? It’s hard enough to get through another day.
Well, yes. But, amongst everything we do, our thinking occasionally does venture to the fringes. Often that process is advanced by the consumption of some substance(s). However, just to clarify the situation, this is not the case here. I am not criticizing those who do, but, I cannot be both a pilot of an aircraft and a substance user because I need full control of my faculties.

It was a dream and like all of us, I have had many dreams in my life. You wake up and most of the time the dream is quickly forgotten. Nightmares linger on for a bit. A few dreams stay with us for days because of their profound effect.
This dream, as surreal as it seems, has launched an avalanche of deeper questions. Not that I was suffering from a lack of questions or a void of thought material. No, the opposite, but I am now pushed purposely in a direction which was not highlighted so prominently before.

Here goes:
There is another reality, in parallel, where we are also present and cognitively aware and consciously interacting with other (human) beings who we absolutely do not know in this reality: Names of people we have no connection to in this life; dealing with things we have never considered dealing in, in an environment that is foreign to the one we frequent. (This could explain the sheer exhaustion we sometimes inexplicably feel.)
For instance: In this dream, I was mentioning to someone called Ian that I have a Jaguar engine in my store room for his Jaguar. In the dream, I was on friendly terms with Ian, and Sarah and others.
This dream episode does not fit into my life in any way. I don’t drive Jaguars, never had and don’t have any engines either. And Ian, well, pleased to meet you, and Sarah too.
Wow, I do live a whole other life it seems.

Like with any dream, if you don’t catch that tail-end fast enough it disappears out of memory leaving only the impression that you had a ‘cool’ dream, but can’t remember what it was about.

This dream invigorated my thinking and anchored a notion that there is more that we are involved in than with our five senses only. It brought into perspective a concept in my mind that, as we gain greater consciousness, we also realize that we are in more than one place at once. Extrapolated to the extreme, — to limit the size of this post and cut to the scoop — we could be (are) everywhere. In essence saying, that because we are part of everything, we are also present everywhere. This awakened consciousness confronts us with that broader reality and we now see life from that realties’ perspective. Our enlarged consciousness now dawns on us the whole bigger picture as more awareness is assimilated.

There are so many connotations. Next time you do something bear in mind that you could be inflicting something upon yourself because you are part of everything. You are also part of some stuff you don’t like. I don’t know how that works exactly but the idea certainly comes to mind and the willful force to change it. I think as our consciousness grows it could be like a magnet or a strong current aligning everything in a ‘good’ way. Huh, hopefully.

Consciousness is the totality we are. In our mind, we frequently separate and isolate ourselves from everything and everywhere. Supreme consciousness leads us to become Übermensch (to borrow from Nietzsche) and superman (to borrow from Sri Aurobindo).

I think I think, I think.

Man cannot be final, he is a transitional being; his imperfect life and consciousness must develop itself into the type of the fully conscious being, after man or out of him must be born the superman.
Sri Aurobindo

Appassionare

Impassioned and dreamy to live,
the one-way lane to bliss

Drudgery and mundanity boredom gives

Failure be a toxic recipe
Mute, the soul seeks therapy

In passion lies life’s ecstasy

But what do you do if your passion doesn’t get you to that bliss?

You’ve immersed yourself in playing music, enjoyed every note, and you clearly don’t have it.
You write, you come alive, and you are mediocre at best, — on an inspired day.
You are painting and your art fulfills you like nothing else, and it doesn’t raise an eyebrow, least of all sell.

You do stuff that captivates and absorbs you, that you love, but never is there a financial reward or even a pat on the back.
You follow your passion constantly but you can’t make a living.

The search for a passionate solution is consuming you.

You are not level headed and will never be, — so help you gee oh dee.

You start doubting passion.
Something has to work, — desperately by now, and intrinsically you know it can only work if passion is present, yet it doesn’t happen.

You have more than one passion, oh definitely yes.
You are an appasionata or an appasionato.

You can’t find the One thing that tops them all.
Maybe you do but for whatever reason, you have to find the next best.
Can there ever be a next best? Will passion tolerate being ordered, sorted, prioritized, delayed?

You think you know what your passion is and where it lies, but, you also think you don’t.
Sometimes you even think: “What is passion? What am I passionate about?”

You back off because your passion is too far fetched. It surpasses even your belief with its imaginative enactment.

You question if passion is maybe the devils trick to lure you into his quarters and then again you think it’s a God given gift.

You ponder the idea that it’s too late to follow your passion.

Disillusion and disappointment mount as passion eludes you. Resigned, life becomes dull and thoughts start flirting with a philosophical question.

You always thought that passion was the only real certainty worth pursuing and now you are the laughing stock of all your ghosts.

Are you the doomed one?
Are you the example that others use to point out the senselessness of trying to follow one’s passion(s) instead of doing something ‘real’?

Should one perhaps pair one’s passion ‘to do something’ with one’s fascination ‘of something’? Could the search then be finally over?

Sometimes,
amongst all the noise we create,
we don’t hear the divine music within.