From the age of sixteen until I was twenty, I was unraveling; realizing the stress of the whiskey bottle within my warped family opened the path to fail, fall apart and decline, slip into depression, madness and a swift break with the rest of the world on their paths to success. That no one understood the pull of a spiral downward to a maelstrom; however ignorance, deliberate neglect, and lack of compassion enters the scenery of a landscape painting as Impressionism argues with Cubism that structures don't exist, only the blur and swirl given in impressions, not the lines and angles found in geometry. Orders within the mind sought out recovery for the next thirty years; finding the marathon as a grounding project against insanity.
Some people don't respond to discipline the mind by a daily practice in the same way, forces beyond this awareness hurt their recovery; xenomania grips with a need to outdo a moderate outcome; trust in daily practice becomes a religion of rites and rituals; experience opens awareness to relax but the body craves work even to exhaustion, to the point of collapse as a ship may capsize; no one knows the limits to the body until they push the envelope.
Unwittingly, my growth as a caring person became stunted and blocked, not that I was aware at the age of twenty how far I had fallen towards naẓīr (as-samt), nadir to the zenith, bottom of a crevasse inside a block of ice, how long before the thaw in social relations lasted within my soul, this innate sense to feel the pain within others;
I was not sure this life, the journey in itself was not meant to release wisdom in gradual moments of acceptance, opposing ignorance as a form of self-harm by hurting the other, creating bad karma; suffering this lifetime was a necessity to become a Buddha, transcending all sorrow, distress and its effects on the human body, willing myself to reach deep into the darkness, crippled in a crevasse, exactly as needed, or is this just a game to compensate for loss; nervous about the truth, vibrations diminish as the body weakens; trust in experience, the truth of awareness, understanding the mind yet this skepticism keeps me from true belief, letting the mind expand.
I opened up my eyes deep inside the crevasse to see beyond the stars; witness the suffering of a one-footed duck, imperfection is truth as this reality unfolds against beauty and perfection in form; suddenly satori showed me everything was beautiful as it is; until experience was not about striving, not about making mine, nothing made sense to me as people were callous as adults and children; realizing being, the lightness within joy, unbearable as time arrives at the station, the present slips away, the mundane world remains; velocity is light in relation to time in the construct of space; everything leads to now, contemplate each moment within the full spectrum; look at the positive, the potential as growth, actualized as mind; inside what I don't know is fear, gripped by terror, the unknown of childhood; nothing as it appears is real, simply passing, shifting, changing, turning; given the universe expands to inflation, we live in a balloon.
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