|We Chase What We See Shine In The Light of Our Own Mind, Up and Down|
I have always done my best to be as honest as I possibly can while describing here what I see going on inside of me. It has been my unceasing belief that I am undergoing a hitherto unknown metamorphosis of being. I have been having a spectacular and completely unpredictable transformation of the way I experience one moment to the next and how I interpret the nexus of synchronized events that has become the narrative of my life.
My life study has become what I have now learned is called, "Narratology as a Description of Ludology".
"Narratology-the branch of knowledge or literary criticism that deals with the structure and function of narrative and its themes, conventions, and symbols."
|Elongated Lives of Leisure Seek Engagement In The Addictive Pleasures Of Games|
All narratives are about games of hide and seek, lessons earned and learned if only the lesson being that lessons are futile and pointless. The Ludology ( the study of games and gaming, especially video games) of seek and destroy or seek and discover, preserve and maintain, or whatever it be, a narrative is a description of some unfolding game and the narrative and the game are meant to engage and entertain while we are being cultivated for consumption.
|God, Squeeze me and I won't regret It!|
We are all lemons meant to be squeezed for our juices, our feelings and thoughts and ideas are all products of celestial agriculture, we are grapes made into wine for the enjoyment of what is so far beyond our own mind-as to exist outside our most wild and dangerously radical abstractions of self purpose. We are meant to be happy and grateful and self aware as we are consumed, for that tastes and smells better and is more easily digested by whatever consumes us. As long as we are happy and grateful and self aware, we are never totally consumed but are more like sweet fruit giving Trees, ourselves. Wouldn't you keep a sweet fruit giving tree? What good is a fig tree that is only disappointing in perpetual non delivery of what you dreamed to eat from it's branches?
|Not For No Good Reason Have The Hebrew Prophets Compared Israel To A Vineyard|
For me, The Process Of Self Discovery And Description, has been deeply visceral and mostly ineffable, sublime and beyond definition. But I have tried anyway to share everything, my angers and frustrations with other people's minds as they groped with their interpretations of the substance of my writings is self evident in the now, because I have been writing on the internet since March, 2001, and it's all here as if written instantaneously with what I am writing now.
The miracle of knowing the now is in holding in cross reference everything one can perceive at once, in ever longer sustained duration. Memories are now. Ignore nothing, hold all your memories and present perceptions and all the meanings and explanations you have for everything you have ever perceived, and if it all culminates in an epiphany of recognition that is has all been designed down to the smallest detail, benevolently as a process in which you are being cultivated like a tomato plant, whereby you are planned to look and smell and taste the best that can possibly manifest from the seed you come from, if you see this in joyful surrender, you have arrived.
Like a tomato plant. If that idea makes you feel defensively uncomfortable, you haven't arrived yet.
Now I have arrived and moved beyond.
I have been overwhelmed by an intelligence that rises up from within me starting at the root of my physical body, my scrotum. It has mastery over my nervous system and generates sensations throughout my body that are continually and exquisitely blissful but there are pains and angers and frustrations and feelings of shame and self blame , as well as an intensely fierce love for whomever I have ever loved together with a feeling of anger and disdain towards anyone who has ever wronged me from my point of view. It's all there and here as if time has no real power to diminish anything at all but awareness of the painful confusing past in the now, and against that loss of awareness I have fought all my life.
I have always considered all my experiences to be precious treasures.
The bad and the worse and even the very most shameful things I have ever done or that have ever happened to me, I instinctively knew to be my only real fortunes. I have been fortunate, both in deed and in my imagination, where there is no sin I have not imagined myself committing. How important it is to forget nothing at all, particularly that which shames us the most!
I am The Snake, become a great elongated worm, exposed and vulnerable once again, after shedding a skin that had worn thin from friction with the reality I find myself in, again and again. Not of my own making. No product of any design of my own, no manifestation rooted in the seed of the genus of my own kind. I know myself to be absolutely created and by no means a creator of anything at all. I can't begin to express how relieved I am to find this to be the case, because to endure this state of mind one must have a mind and heart with Perfected Faith.
I am completely vulnerable and exposed to the core of my most essential being and can feel pain and misery and despair and yet there is within me, only dispersing and diminishing vestiges of fear. I am certain that I will not fall prey to the jungle nature of the living world that surrounds me and I need do nothing at all to calculate the circumstances of my continuing existence, which I have reason to believe might exceed my expectations.
As The Snake become worm I am manifesting my most potent guile, that being the knowledge that there is no hiding from the Wisdom That is Cultivating Me. It is within me and surrounds me, the source of everything I sense and even what I think, my most outrageous ideas come to me from the same source as whatever pearls I would cast before others. I often feel so much of this is wasted on me because I don't somehow share it. I try to write what I can, before these semantic gems are lost in the cascading treasures that pile up inside of me, before I flush it all down the toilet, once again, and empty myself of any idea that there is any value within me at all but My Love of My Creator and My Desire To Be Part of God's Creation and See my God of Art's Works Unfold.
The Wisdom of The Snake, His Cunning and Guile are in his complete self abandon to self exposure. God, if there is within me sin, I win, because you put it there for me to find and I have found it. As you always knew I would! What love You must have for me that you share thus with me the Glory of My Own Self Discovery and how surprised I am to find myself with no fault of my own, except an attempt to own that which was never and could never be mine.
My very own spine is of fractal design, just like the fractions I see of the ever evasive whole, how superficial must be any visage at all, of anything there is to be seen. I am keen, ever cleaning like Spinoza the lens through which I examine the content of what must be consumed like Man, before it decomposed.
The Worms are Cursed with a Blessing, they eat everything at all, the flesh and the dust it becomes. They are the meek that inherit the earth as shelter and sustenance.
September 29th, 2017
A Catastrophic Tragedy. Maybe Not!
Jonathan Michael Robbins
יונתן מיכאל רבינס