Archive for the Sentience Category

Preoccupied

Posted in Crazy Zen Wisdom, Observations of a Recovering Buddhist, Poetry, Sentience on January 16, 2017 by dreamlanddancing

An intruder
snuck into my head,
pretending to be me
so long ago
that I do not remember
a time
before him.
But he is an imposter…
He narrates all the thoughts I have
and tells me what I already know.
He announces, names and labels
everything I see.
He incessantly ruminates
about the past
as he injects Fear
into a future
that has not yet come
because it never comes.
There is only the Present.
which also does not come…
because
It is already here.
It never leaves…
It is always here.
It is the only thing that is real.

He claims to be the guardian of the
Common Wisdom
of fear,
of prejudice,
and insecurity.
He claims that if I do not
feed him with all my attention
that I will loose my mind,
which is just crazy,
because he is only
my mind…
and cannot survive without me,
‘tho I can live much better
with much less of him,
the Creator
of all Suffering,
the Creator
of the Illusion of Time.

Yet recently I’ve come to know
from a place deep within my soul
that before thoughts,
before words…
I already know.
I have always known.
My mind creates my ego
by identifying me with my thoughts
My thoughts are an addiction.
My ever-chattering Mind
is not me,
but he would not stop;
like a spoiled child
throwing a tantrum
to distract my attention
from the present moment…
so I fired him,
took him off the payroll;
told him
I will call him
when I really need him
but only as a consultant,
…not the captain
…not the master.
You have to loose your thinking mind
to find
your Self.

…Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei …
…さよなら絶望先生….

Namasté
नमस्ते
Chazz Vincent
01/15/17

Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei

Posted in Crazy Zen Wisdom, Escape Velocity, Mature Theme, Once in a Blue Agave Moon, Sentience on May 8, 2016 by dreamlanddancing
The first time I read a translation of this, it was “Good-bye Mr. Despair”.
As Japanese honorific titles go, it has been my understanding that although “Sensei” does mean “Mr.,” it is at about the top of the chart as these things go, and might better be regarded as “Master.”
When I re-thought the phrase as “Good-bye Master of Despair,” it took on the nuance of a changed paradigm; one in which I was my own worst enemy.
Well…once I began to recognize how this one concept was tantamount to a piece of flawed code that was imbedded in almost every program downloaded into my personal bio-computer, I felt simultaneously over-joyed and overwhelmed.
Hell, in many ways it was a part of my basic identity, and that just pissed me off in a very nebulous sense because I don’t believe that this is necessarily a required part of my operating system, i.e.: it was learned, meaning that somebody, someone taught me to accept that flawed aspect of self-awareness so far back that I was too young to realize what was being done to me at the time, and too deluded to recognize it later…at least until now.
I say nebulous because there is no need to try to identify whom or what it was specifically (a ridiculous waste of time with no real payoff) and because I perceived it as being a part of the culture of my life, rather than a specific entity to whom I could assess blame (which is equally pointless), yet inherently crippling.
I love the way a particular word of phrase can trigger such profound effects on me.
I am not cursed; I am blessed.
If one acts as one’s own attorney, they have a fool for a client.
If you act as your own therapist…you have a crazy person for a patient.
OK…I see no problem in that.
I always was blessed; good times, bad times come and go until you recognize the folly of thinking there was any difference.
We make the difference.
I remember the frustration of losing my ability to recognize the opportunities to express my gratitude during my most successful endeavors.
There was a time when nothing was ever good enough to suit me.
Now almost nothing is more than enough, and it suits me just fine.
I also remember the bittersweet poignancy of losing nearly every material possession I owned overnight in a hurricane, only to experience a genuine euphoria in realizing that the ones I loved were safe with me and thinking “It’s all just stuff…things…there will be more someday.”
When my reality was crumbling and my life was exploding I often wrote between three to six thousand words and still worked forty hours every week.
They were beautifully tragic, awe-inspiring times filled with heroic angst, optimism, betrayal, romance and heartbreak that turned on a dime and gave back eleven cents change.
Madness and Majick danced with me on the roof as the house burned beneath me. Love seduced Logic while Romance beguiled Reason in the pale moonlight…
But every time…just as I was about to find the Prom Queen’s tickle switch on Firestone Alley while we watched the submarine races out on the bay…or in the middle of an eighty mile an hour drift through the apex of an off-ramp, or onstage in the middle of the best song I ever wrote, …or while searching for the right words to undo the unforgivable…that defective code would pop up seemingly out of nowhere…
Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei.
I say goodbye to a part of myself that was never really me.
Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei.
There will always be pain somewhere out there, but I do not have to hurt myself any more.
It will no longer be necessary.
Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei.
You will no longer be necessary.
Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei.
You will not be missed…at least not by me.
Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei.
Goodbye Mister Despair.
Namasté
नमस्ते
Chazz Vincent
05/07/2016

This Thing We Do with Words

Posted in Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Poetry, Sentience, this thing we do with words, Uncategorized on March 3, 2016 by dreamlanddancing

…Paradox…

The words
of my
Eternal Beloved
breathed into my ear
as softly
as
a Butterfly Kiss
yet as
powerful and moving
as a hurricane
ripping through
My Mind
My Heart
My Soul
My Life.

Namasté
नमस्ते
Chazz Vincent
03/02/2016

Realization

Posted in Knowledge, Poetry, Sapience, Sentience on March 2, 2016 by dreamlanddancing

 

So Sad
to realize
so late
I had it
all wrong
since before
I can even remember;
this life
into which
I was born
so blinded
by what was
so obvious
to everyone
but me,
and from which
escape
seems
almost impossible,
yet as close
as a realization
yet to be
perceived
or
acknowledged.

Namasté
नमस्ते
Chazz Vincent
03/02/2016

On Letting Go, Part XI: Blame and Excuses

Posted in adversity, Letting Go, LONGREAD, Sapience, Sentience with tags on October 10, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

We judge others by their actions, but we judge ourselves by our intentions.

How many people do you know who would describe themselves as satisfied in terms of their lives?

The paradigm that seems to drive many people’s lives is “One’s grasp should exceed their reach.”

I am no stranger to the concept, but I have seriously marred some of the best stages or phases of my life due to my inability to remember to smell the roses while I am still in the garden.

No matter what I am in the midst of doing or trying to achieve, I am infused with this sense of Angst and Frustration because I find it very difficult to enjoy the satisfaction of a job well done…because it will never be quite perfectly executed….and because there’s always more….

I have a way of focusing too much attention on some real or perceived hidden flaw or imperfection in my work, or the tapestry of my life as a film noire.

For as long as I can remember, it has been my artistic expressions, whether in Music, Art. Photography, Film, Video, Multi-Media, or Writing that have been the driving force in my life, my purpose…my raison d’être.

 

To me, the activities of daily living are more like watching the Dead doing the St. Vitus Dance to waves of endorphins and polypeptides.

My Love and Sex lives reflect the same preoccupation with artistic, philosophical and creative expression…(needless to say, often to the chagrin of those who aspire to love and understand me).

My attention seems forever drawn to what could be somewhere over the next hill.

Yet years later it will seem like a grand romantic adventure to which I wish I could return…so why am I so unhappy?

Many years ago, a very dear lifetime friend said “I sometimes think that even on the clearest and most perfect days, your attention will be drawn to a dark cloud off on the horizon, saying ‘…eventually, we are going to have to deal with that…’ “.

At the time, I took it as a compliment to my foresight and vision.

It wasn’t until years later that I realized that she was lamenting on how I could ruin a moment of bliss with pessimism and negativity.

I have known her almost all of my adult life. We started as lovers but her lifelong friendship is unique to my life experiences with the exception of my wife. Only one other female relationship (or marriage) has ever lasted for more than six years.

She is the most successful person I know, and seems to possess a quiet satisfaction that I envy, despite the fact that she is no stranger to tragedy or disappointment.

…But back to the original point.

Several decades ago, I found myself proclaiming that I felt that it was time to get serious about my life and make something of myself, and perhaps achieve the satisfaction of artistic and financial success, a vow I seem to be compelled to renew every few years.

Money comes, money goes; jobs come and jobs go, but the work of one’s life remains. For me, my Art is my Life.

With the exception of my current compulsion for writing, my creative life has been in a flat spiral ever since I became preoccupied by some measure of financial security (which was almost completely fear-based). It has left me broke and nearly despondent at times.

(Just as it seems as if the digressions will never end, the snake bites its own tail…the Uroburos returns….)

Although I have been frequently led astray by others, and distracted from my real or imagined goals and dreams, their part in the failed processes was minor, compared to my own incredibly bad judgment.

There is a word for sound judgment, and it is referred to as Sapience. It is the cognate from which the term homo sapiens is derived.

Without it, we are just a bunch of Talking Monkeys, and I am their spokesperson.

Whenever I find myself beset by “…a sea of troubles…” and contemplating how to “…put an end to them…”, I meditate.

This last time around, my focus was on “Who am I?…”Who is asking this question?”

I am the one who is tired of singing only torch songs.

I am the one who is tired of settling for less.

I am the one who is tired of doing things I do not love to do.

I am the one who is tired of withholding my candor to simply keep the peace I never seem to find anyway.

I am the one who is tired of not being myself, or not trusting the results of my own actions to take me where they will. Better to die gloriously in battle, roaring like a lion than to be led whimpering like a lamb to slaughter.

I am the one who vows to embrace the results.

If I blame anyone else for the dissatisfaction I feel, I am once again relinquishing control over my life. It is only in accepting responsibility for my present condition that I can exercise some degree of self-determination.

Excuse-mongering and blame are like a co-dependent dysfunctional couple who never seem to be able to stop making excuses for themselves and blaming each other for their own misery.

Next time you feel defensive and find yourself declaring that something was not your fault, better think again….

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, charted by unrealistic expectations and lined with lame excuses.

The I in Failure comes well before the U.

Of course it is always your own fault ultimately, whether it be a failed marriage, a career, or your dreams, but there are so many factors (aside from poor judgment) beyond your control from which there is No Escape that we might as well learn as early as possible to view our lives with enough Loving-Kindness and Acceptance to learn from our mistakes and move on to make new mistakes as we learn to forgive so we can forgive to learn.

However…when I was a rescue paramedic, more than once I heard statements like:

“There I was, just standing there minding my own business (in a bar, or on a street corner in Ft. Lauderdale or Key West)…and from out of nowhere, this guy comes up and….”

or:

“I was trying to reach the top shelf, but the chair wasn’t quite high enough, so I stacked a couple telephone books on top of each other and suddenly…”

or:

“No I dont want to press charges…he was just drunk…I know he loves me and he’s the father of two of my children, and I got no place else to go…it was my fault for nagging him about losing his job…” (for being drunk) “…and I don’t work…because…and….”

Who hasn’t heard: “I just have so much love to give…I can’t understand why I am so alone.”

(Much of it is not beyond our control.)

I’ve heard it said that at least seventy-five per cent of what happens to us is random; whether you were born a Kennedy or an orphan in Calcutta is beyond your control, but it is what you do with the other twenty-five per cent that determines what will become of each of us.

I have a strong suspicion that it is our past and present Karma that determines the first seventy-five per cent. We just don’t recognize the connection.

The dog chases the bone.

It is said that the elephant is the only animal that can remember all of his past lives, and stands alone contemplating his Karma.

There are no good excuses, and blame is what distracts us from that realization. It is the difference between fault-finding and trouble-shooting.

The sooner you learn to forgive yourself, the easier it is to forgive others and accept responsibility for your life and your condition.

You don’t have to be kind, but you don’t have to be cruel either.

Just be real.

 

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

10/09/2015

 

 

 

 

What kind of God Would Block my Entrance into Heaven?

Posted in Appreciation, Bardo Thordol, Crossing the Abyss, Dancing in Dreamland, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Erotic Poetry, Escape Velocity, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Poetry, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Sentience, Sex, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Talking Monkeys with tags , , , , , , , , , , on April 1, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

What kind of God Would Block my Entrance into Heaven?

What kind of God would do this thing?

An angry, lonely God perhaps,

but

I think it must be one quite small,

(that Heaven or that God)

where neither animals nor disbelievers

are allowed to go.

Do you think

you are only being tested

here on Earth

to decide if you should go

to Heaven?

or to Hell?

Heaven is right here.

Right now.

Because there’s no place I’d rather be,

between Gratitude and Acceptance

at the crossroads of

Life and Sex

in rural

Ecstasy,

deep into

Love County….

Call Her what you want,

I am but God’s Reflection

on the surface

of a pond so still

you can

pick it up

with the

antlers of a mouse,

(…if only you know how…)

to carry with you

in your heart.

No matter where you go.

 

My Muses

Posted in Acknowledgement, Appreciation, Collaboration, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Erotic Poetry, Goddess, gratitutde, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Liason, Liason Between Parties, Love, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Poetry, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sentience, Share The Love, Sorcery, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Wisdom, Theater of the Mind, Tsukimono-suji, What You Have Conjured Up, Zen with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 20, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

My Muses

Our souls breathe the same air

somewhere

outside of time and space

resonating

as we breathe out

we inspire each other

as we breathe in

provocative exhalations

evoking visions and dreams,

wonderment and admirations

that just seem to fit so well.

As each pronouncement

of the ideal

of the other

mirrors our own aspirations.

If you can imagine it

you can make it happen.

To hear you describe it

is to desire to be that man

who inspires you

to be that woman.

To read your thoughts

is to feel

your soul

breathing your words into my ear.

Each of you

nurture, heal and inspire

the very best of me,

inspiring me

to do the same for you.

Indulgences

of spirit and flesh

are exchanged

as fluently

as

passing from one hand to the other.

Breathless humours and vapors

of our common consciousness

in mutual resusitation.

 

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