As the highway rolls out on a dry smoking horizon and red wine sky; as the grand molds of the earth collapse beneath them in marvelous cascades and the liquid road stretches on, they ride in silence.
They are a family. A group of miss matched souls invested in simulations of the pursuit of happiness. Mildly content. Acceptably beguiled by the pendulum of life in the shores of Sydney.
They arrive in a world beyond their own. One of dry air and frequent mosquitos and noble simplicity of living; Of children of the earth with feet tattooed in dirt and dust and skin accustomed to solely air and the outside, a red dirt world of wondering souls and warm beer and make shift meals on collapsible stoves. A world of yodeling country music in the dusks of days amongst the land, and movement irrespective of externalities. Of movement for the sake of movement, stillness for the sake of stillness, love for the sake of love, life for the sake of life! A world coated in immutable layers of grime, that when the burnt sky is drowned in inky black there exists only silence and the subtle twitches of the worlds animals in a nightly dance that is nothing but natural. Nothing but beautiful.
A world beyond their own world of inside walls and comforting noise, and fillings of day to day fall short of fulfillment. In their own world, back home, the boy is engrossed in steps after steps, in continual movement, in life in the fast lane! He sprints through time and drinks the splendidness of physical life into the depths of his memory. The thousands of suns and skies and stars he has studied and hence he ‘appreciates’; Yet can he remember a single detail? Obsessed with physical progression in all aspects of life, move! Move! Move! He yells to himself, he leans forward in eternal sprinting stance. A man within city windows who leads the endless rocking and rolling of his sweet short life, with thoughts of integrity and contentment.
Yet a world like that is suffocated by a world like this.
On the mid September night of his family’s trip he lies. Diamond speared stars shoot from a golden rifle to the boy, bare back on cool concrete, they spear to the centre of his world and explode in extraordinary melting heat and molten rock and catastrophe with every scream. As the comforts of familiarity dissolve, they burn the porcelain skin of his younger sister and oh does she scream in sorrow. The realisation ruins her. With every rock, twitch, screech, moan, pain stricken tremble that drips from the lips of his beloved he shudders and shudders and writhes and presses his head still into the cool concrete steps feeling the burn burn burn of the centre of the earth and wishing to fall right through. Lost in the absence of his usual escapism he feels nothing but the inability to fix the woes of the one he loves most. Nothing but to move and escape and combat the torture of possibility his mind plagues him with. O to burn! To heat and to melt and to implode into a single nothingness! O the pains and the pleasures of simple existence.
Not long after the pain of the mid September night the boy finds liberation and the boy finds truth. He finds himself in the depths of a gorge not far from the red dirt road. Amidst the great rocky landscape – turned up and trodden, their tracks criss crossing across the territory – somewhere within he finds himself. In the springs of a crimson canyon beneath a crystal sky, within the mystical grandness, engulfed in pooling shadows as a gale snakes the surface and shallow ripples multiply, as they do within himself.
He is still. The most simple revolution.
Stillness.
Far off from his own world in which lies the cycle of human noise, of human actions that was his past consuming truth. Yet...O to be free of deception! To hear only the highest truth, to feel only this deep naturalness, to exist only in this elevated consciousness. And in the stillness of the mind he surrenders everything with ease and with compassion.
He is falling. Floating down the great rock canyon he is falling faster than ever. Just as the night of his young sister’s cries on that smooth disturbed night where he wished to fall right through the earth. Yet this time he is falling to the centre. Through the ripples of his very spirit. First there is deafening roaring noise, then there is twisting and writhing and the uncomfortable manifestation of every emotion in the body. Still he falls. Layers of cool bright matter, colour in waves and waves, then light is all he can see yet has little to do with sight. The humming of creation, colours of expression, sounds of silence, cycles of energy, mathematics of spirit, of heart, of soul, rushing in the LOUDEST BLUR!
Then stillness.
He communicates, and understands, the highest of truths. Surrounded by pure energy he sees the frequencies that create life and sees no difference. Enlightened to the unity of spirit without a single externality, without a single movement.
His eyes closed, his mind open: filled with understanding, devoid of knowledge. Understanding of every life he has lived laying on a simultaneous expanse of time. And understanding of the body, so attached moments ago, now somewhere still in the third dimension. Floating down a canyon.
Samsara broken. Samsara shattered. Wholly consumed by nirvana. He is in the land of the angels. In the land of light. In the land of pure transcendence. In the land of bliss bliss bliss! And he finally opens his eyes.
They are a family. A group of miss matched souls invested in simulations of the pursuit of happiness. Mildly content. Acceptably beguiled by the pendulum of life in the shores of Sydney.
They arrive in a world beyond their own. One of dry air and frequent mosquitos and noble simplicity of living; Of children of the earth with feet tattooed in dirt and dust and skin accustomed to solely air and the outside, a red dirt world of wondering souls and warm beer and make shift meals on collapsible stoves. A world of yodeling country music in the dusks of days amongst the land, and movement irrespective of externalities. Of movement for the sake of movement, stillness for the sake of stillness, love for the sake of love, life for the sake of life! A world coated in immutable layers of grime, that when the burnt sky is drowned in inky black there exists only silence and the subtle twitches of the worlds animals in a nightly dance that is nothing but natural. Nothing but beautiful.
A world beyond their own world of inside walls and comforting noise, and fillings of day to day fall short of fulfillment. In their own world, back home, the boy is engrossed in steps after steps, in continual movement, in life in the fast lane! He sprints through time and drinks the splendidness of physical life into the depths of his memory. The thousands of suns and skies and stars he has studied and hence he ‘appreciates’; Yet can he remember a single detail? Obsessed with physical progression in all aspects of life, move! Move! Move! He yells to himself, he leans forward in eternal sprinting stance. A man within city windows who leads the endless rocking and rolling of his sweet short life, with thoughts of integrity and contentment.
Yet a world like that is suffocated by a world like this.
On the mid September night of his family’s trip he lies. Diamond speared stars shoot from a golden rifle to the boy, bare back on cool concrete, they spear to the centre of his world and explode in extraordinary melting heat and molten rock and catastrophe with every scream. As the comforts of familiarity dissolve, they burn the porcelain skin of his younger sister and oh does she scream in sorrow. The realisation ruins her. With every rock, twitch, screech, moan, pain stricken tremble that drips from the lips of his beloved he shudders and shudders and writhes and presses his head still into the cool concrete steps feeling the burn burn burn of the centre of the earth and wishing to fall right through. Lost in the absence of his usual escapism he feels nothing but the inability to fix the woes of the one he loves most. Nothing but to move and escape and combat the torture of possibility his mind plagues him with. O to burn! To heat and to melt and to implode into a single nothingness! O the pains and the pleasures of simple existence.
Not long after the pain of the mid September night the boy finds liberation and the boy finds truth. He finds himself in the depths of a gorge not far from the red dirt road. Amidst the great rocky landscape – turned up and trodden, their tracks criss crossing across the territory – somewhere within he finds himself. In the springs of a crimson canyon beneath a crystal sky, within the mystical grandness, engulfed in pooling shadows as a gale snakes the surface and shallow ripples multiply, as they do within himself.
He is still. The most simple revolution.
Stillness.
Far off from his own world in which lies the cycle of human noise, of human actions that was his past consuming truth. Yet...O to be free of deception! To hear only the highest truth, to feel only this deep naturalness, to exist only in this elevated consciousness. And in the stillness of the mind he surrenders everything with ease and with compassion.
He is falling. Floating down the great rock canyon he is falling faster than ever. Just as the night of his young sister’s cries on that smooth disturbed night where he wished to fall right through the earth. Yet this time he is falling to the centre. Through the ripples of his very spirit. First there is deafening roaring noise, then there is twisting and writhing and the uncomfortable manifestation of every emotion in the body. Still he falls. Layers of cool bright matter, colour in waves and waves, then light is all he can see yet has little to do with sight. The humming of creation, colours of expression, sounds of silence, cycles of energy, mathematics of spirit, of heart, of soul, rushing in the LOUDEST BLUR!
Then stillness.
He communicates, and understands, the highest of truths. Surrounded by pure energy he sees the frequencies that create life and sees no difference. Enlightened to the unity of spirit without a single externality, without a single movement.
His eyes closed, his mind open: filled with understanding, devoid of knowledge. Understanding of every life he has lived laying on a simultaneous expanse of time. And understanding of the body, so attached moments ago, now somewhere still in the third dimension. Floating down a canyon.
Samsara broken. Samsara shattered. Wholly consumed by nirvana. He is in the land of the angels. In the land of light. In the land of pure transcendence. In the land of bliss bliss bliss! And he finally opens his eyes.