The Sun and the Earth

Today, when we look at the moon and the Earth, we see a beautiful relationship.  The Earth faithfully orbits the Sun, reflecting the Sun's light magnificently for the universe to see.  The Sun gives us light and warmth with a promise to shine for a billion tomorrows. That, however, was not always the case.


For once upon a time the Sun and the Earth had a much different relationship.  The Sun was angry; sending destructive flares outward into the cosmos.  The Sun burned intensely as all young stars did, searing nearby planets and destroying all that came near him.  The Sun became lonely, but still could not help himself as his heat and intensity caused all in the universe to avoid him.  The Sun was a product of the explosion that created him, and he knew no better because he was just the Sun acting like the Sun he was created to be.


The Earth was peaceful and calm aside from the occasional temper tantrums and changes that came with experience.  She steadily went about her business as she grew, becoming quite a stable planet as time went by.  Objects from all over the cosmos were drawn to her, but eventually they collided with her and caused her great pain.  She felt alone until one day she discovered the Sun.


Other planets had tried.  Mercury came alone at the wrong time and got too close.  She became a barren wasteland and laid to waste by the intensity of the sun's heat.  Venus too had tried, but she also got too close to the Sun's youthful intensity.  Other planets stayed further away, and while they were magnificent in the their own way they could not enjoy the benefit of the Sun, whom they feared.  Those planets were cold and distant, and while beautiful they remained unable to enjoy the warmth.


The Earth was different.  She loved the Sun.  At first she was drawn to him by his size and intensity.  The Sun also loved the Earth.  He enjoyed her beauty and the way she she seemed to love him back.  He didn't feel threatened by her as much as he felt threatened by the memories of what brought him here, to this place and time.  He did all he could to get her to stay away, yet their love would always draw them closer.


As she got closer to the Sun his intensity began to burn her.  His flares would scorch her surface and she would show great pain.  The Sun looked around the universe and saw places that would be much better for the Earth, and in this pain there would be another flare and more pain for the Earth.  "Sun, I need you to end these flares or I will have to go away," she would say.  The Sun tried and tried, and soon the flares became less and less until they faded away.

"Sun, I need you to stop being so bright," the Earth said.  So the Sun tried and tried until his once blinding light became a faint glimmer.  "I need you to be less hot," said the Earth.  So the Sun tried and tried until his once searing heat became more bearable to the Earth.  Yet, as time went on, that one bright part of the universe became darker.  The universe all around the Sun became a frigid wasteland.  The stars shone less brightly, and even the moon went dark.  Even the Earth herself became cold and bored as the Sun worked day and night to be, well, not the Sun.

One day the Sun just could not help it.  He exploded with a fury, sending light far and wide around him.  The moon shined, and the Earth became amazed at the beautiful universe around her she could only see as the Sun shined brightly.  She looked at him and saw his absolute brilliance.  She decided at that moment something that changed them both forever.


"Sun," she said, "I want you to shine.  I want you to be warm.  I want you to be who you want to be."


"But won't that hurt you?" asked the Sun.


"You will be who you need to be and I will be who I need to be.  We need to love each other as we are if we are ever going to survive in this place.  You were created for a reason as was I, and we need to love that purpose as much as we love each other."


The Sun understood, and in his appreciation and love shined just enough for the earth.  During the day, she could bask in his his warmth and his light and at night she could see the beauty of the universe around her because of the light he was.  As the Sun looked out upon the universe, he could see the coldness and the danger, but in his love he learned how to provide the right amount of light and warmth for the Earth.  Every once in a while he would send out a flare to protect her, and she had even learned how to stay close to him even when he was simply being the Sun.  


They had learned harmony through disharmony, love through egoic selfishness, peace through suffering.  Soon, miraculous things began to happen.  Life became abundant on the Earth.  The Earth and the Sun together provided for these miracles; miracles born of the love shared between two unlikely things who allowed each other to be. 

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Morning Inspiration 10/5/2010

Freedom is not the pathway to love, love is the pathway to freedom.  Happiness is not the key to acceptance, acceptance is the key to happiness.

And so began my morning in such clarity as to need no interpretation or thought.   It just was, as clear as the sky on a cloudless morning.  You never know when such moments of clarity will come so you just embrace them as they open themselves to you.  Is it possible that these moments are always there but we cover them with layer upon layer of meaningless stuff?  

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

That is Love

When you stand alone on a beach,
And you feel the breeze,
And the water tickling your toes,
That is love.

When you stand as just another part of a crowded beach,
And you feel the breeze as the water tickles your toes,
And you feel contentment in the multitude around you,
That is love.

When you walk among the trees,
And you can hear their leaves rustle,
While  basking in the warmth of the sun,
That is love.

When you open your heart to another,
Regardless of who he is or what he has done,
And you stand in complete absence of judgment,
That is love.

When you stand upright like a blade of grass,
Struggling for nothing but enjoying all you are,
Embracing the ground, the sky and the space between,
That is love.

When you are angry or shudder in fear,
When you hate those not like you,
That part of you who sees this,
That is love.

Love is the rain and the sun,
Love is the silence and the sound,
Love is the patience and the impatience,
Love is the seer and the blind,
Love is yin and yang and the space between them.

So when you cry out loud for it all to end,
Or smile in unbridled ecstasy,
When you fail or succeed or sin or forgive,
That is love.

Peace. 

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Can't

Can't you hold me for just one moment more?
Can't you tell me that I am needed,
That I am wanted, That I am as great as you?
Can't you find your greatness in me as I have in you?

"I can't my love.
I can't see that you are needed,
I can't see that I want you, I can't be but numb in your arms.  
I can't see that you are great, only that I am greater without you."

Can't you touch me one more time?
Can't you comfort me in this, my hour of need?
Can't you see that I am desperate, That I am completely lost?
Can't you find your way as you lead me to my own?


"I can't my love.
I can't stand the feel of you or the sight of you,
I can't find the means of comforting that which you are,
I can't be found as long as you are the veil that covers me."


Can't you just forgive me of my sins,
Can't love me so I sin no more?
Can't you see that I have no quit in me, That I will lose?
Can't you rejoice in the effort that is made in love?


"I can't my love,
I can't forgive what I can't forgive nor indulge in some Love Boat fantasy,
I can't see anything but a loser,
I can't rejoice in that which can only fail."


Can't you?
I can't.
Won't you?
I won't.
The end.



 
©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Psalm 1:2

There is no one coming for me,
No loving whisper in the night,
Just blackness, deep and lonely.

He took up his cross at an early age,
He fell, fell, and fell again with each labored step,
Horrid dreams, eternal and consuming.

There are no heroes in a lonely song,
No saint to wipe this suffered man's face (she has turned away),
Just fantasy, angry and unforgiving.


You have your bridge you fear to cross,
And he had the scenes replayed within his mind,
What you feel as you stand on the wooden span he has felt a million times,
What you see he has seen countless times before,
Yet you behave in a way he has no right to in a reaction he is not allowed to have.
You would leave him in the darkness for what he has seen,
You would cast him aside as if he never tried for the love of his life,
You would pretend you never knew.


Get beaten at the bridge a thousand times,
Have memories there burned into your soul a thousand times more,
Then have what you love say "no" in remembrance of how it destroyed you,
Have what you desire reject the very sight of you because of what it did to you,
Then tell me fair saint, how do you turn away if not because you do not love?

It was love that offered the veil,
It was love that left the imprint.
It was your rejection that caused either to be necessary.


He created himself a monster, and a monster he became.
Such thick skin was needed in order to survive,
You would never have known a dead and rotting boy,
Your treasures would not be there to hold had the monster never lived.
Yet you pretend so easily it is a demon, you never see that it has died,
You are too busy creating it over and over and over again,
So that the monster lives, if nowhere else then in your ability to reject what created it.


"My God, My God, why hath thou forsaken me?"
"Because I can."
"It is finished."
"It was finished before it started, it is not I who created you it was you who created me."
And so it is.  
And so it was.
And so it will always be.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Psalm 1:1

I can no longer hide the essence of who I am.  The basket I've used is no longer thick enough. To share this light with the world; to be the guide toward whatever it is you seek; to strengthen you when you require; to weaken you when you demand; to comfort you when you request; to cause you pain when you need to feel something is my greatest purpose. 

You have torn from me that last great veil!  You have ripped from me the security I once sought with all my being and fed it to the wolves from which I once ran.  You have denied me the simplest pleasure while chastising me for seeking the greatest sin.  For who has that bell tolled if not for me?  Seek and you shall find without the slightest guarantee that what you find is what you were seeking in the first place.

With outstretched hands I beg of you.  Do not spare me from the slightest pain.  Do not keep me from the darkness.  Do not hamper me from the fall I must endure.  Allow me to bask in the darkness and embrace the suffering so that I may know what it is I am here for.  Allow the cup that you pass to press upon my lips.  Allow the nails to do their work.  Allow the taunts and unconsciousness of those around me to cause my wings to flutter uncontrollably.  It is for that you have created me; it is for that I have created my self; it is for that we have created each other.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

A quick thought inspired by a simple picture

I realize that part of man's slide into the abyss began the moment he made food a "commodity".  When that which is so freely given to us by the universe is made into something only those with money can enjoy we have lost something.  When the difference between life and death hang in the balance and some have the power to decide we have lost our way.

Not sure if we will ever get it right before the dawning of the New Earth but perhaps it is one but one sign of that sunrise.  When food is no longer bought or sold but given and taken freely we enjoy the first glimpses of light.  When we don't eat beyond being full, take only what we need and give all that we have perhaps the day has begun.

 To us all that find peace in wanting may we soon find suffering in the desire.  

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

9/11/2001

Today I honor those who acted unselfishly in the service of others on 9/11/2001 (and all days) by acting unselfishly in the service of others.  I will follow their example by not becoming a slave to fear but by demonstrating bravery, by not seeking protection but by providing it, and by not discriminating in who can grab my outstretched hand.  Each act of terror allows for moments of bravery.  Each act of chaos allows for moments of order.  Each act of selfishness allows for moments of unspeakable selflessness.  Each act of fear and anger allows for those moments when the eternal flame of love can warm the soul.

The question will always be in our human existence, "To which end to I seek to serve?"


©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Too Late for Him

There is such a valley between us,
That once flowed a river of love and complexity,
Teeming with potential and abounding life,
Continuing the promise of surprising simplicity.


Ghosts now wonder where the living once stood,
Reminding themselves of their own importance,
Playing the game as if they invented the challenge,
Preying on time as if the next second were a guarantee.


The valley does hold in it the key but not in it the reality,
On one side there is a wall, 
Built by sorrowed hands and angry thoughts,
Maintained as if by some majestic memory.


On the other is a barren wasteland,
Waiting for the dam to break although not believing in the possibility, 
Remembering patiently the paradise that once flowed around it,
Trying hard not to forget that this hell is not all there is.


Has the ground become so dry that the touch of water sickens it?
Has the parched earth become so thirsty as to not remember being satisfied?
Do the darkened grasses so love their suffering as to not wish it all away?
To what, if anything, would the crazed blades do to become themselves again?


Again the valley does hold in it the key but not the reality.
It longs for the water being held from it but craves the dryness it now is.
It does not seem to wish what was to become what is,
It wishes what is to become what was in something new, something new, something new.


So off I go as a bird fleeing the burning bush,
No longer wanted to be what is or what was...but what will be.
Perhaps this valley does not want me anymore, perhaps I not it,
Perhaps the revulsion I cause of the ground around me sickens me as well.


I have died, more than once,
I have seen the world through tears and through smiling eyes,
I have tasted the salt of my heart and the fear of my mind,
Enough to know that one cannot live on dry bread alone.


So what to quench my thirst on this barren plain around me?
I look to the dam and simply say "fuck it",
I look to the wasteland and say "fuck you too",
I look to the sky and know that is the answer.

So begins the struggle to climb to my life's highest peak,
Weathered feet and leathered hands long for something to hold,
Tired eyes see nothing as tired ears hear echoes from the past,
Calling out yet causing no pause in the ascension.


Alone I stand on one mountaintop overlooking that which is below,
I see across the vastness of what is yet another summit calling out to me,
I reach out to the promise of what could be but fall back again,
Such is the expanse, never seen as so vast until now as I try to bridge it.


I have seen the promised land but know in my heart I shall never kiss it.
Gone is the chance to live it, to die upon it, to become one with it for eternity.
For it plays me as surely as I play it, a game of hide and seek to which there is no winner,
Until the end when both are called the champion.


"He was such a good man" the valley will say,
"He did all he could to sew good seeds" the mountain will say,
"He always tried to be the best he could be" the sky will proclaim,
"Too late for him" say the worms on their feast, "Too late for him."


©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Dream

Dream for me my love,
Calm down the anger in my mind,
Find me shade from the sun that burns me,
Accept me in my weakness and in my strength.

Take from me all you need my love,
Allow me to calm the anger in your mind,
And shade you from the sun that would burn me instead,
Allow me to accept your weakness and rely on your strength.

Accept me for what I am,
And I will accept you for what you are,
We can give ourselves to each other,
Or fail to fulfill our promise to eternity.


Dream this dream together,
Or create a nightmare in its place,
Decide the now is better than the yesterday,
And the promise of tomorrow is brighter than a million rules to get us there.


To the "we" we decide simply is,
To the "us" we forgo the "what should be",
To the unending voices that say we shoudn't be,
We shall simply dream.

 

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Silence - The Relationship with Self

I frown at the thought of mothering yet another pitiful episode of the mad wonderings in my mind that create a sense of insanity outside of it.  Still, when faced with the combined sense of being misunderstood and misunderstanding I cannot seem but help to give birth to such a monster.  Gone are the thoughts of rosy sunrises in which we hold each other tightly.  Gone are the cascades of kisses thrown around as if they are candy during an Halloween parade.  Enter in this scene a morose feeling of incompleteness and solitude combined with fear and a sense of ineptness only experience in both could understand.  I don't sense you have this experience and therefore do not have this understanding.  I am happy for that, for I love you with all of my heart and do not wish such a pain to be burdened by you ever in your life.

So I sit in silence.

Riding the wave has never been so hard.  Caught between the break and the riptide I am slowly losing my way from the shore.  I claw at the water to no avail as the sand and stone fades from memory into nightmare.  I drift away into the nothingness from wench I came, into an abyss so dark as to suggest it cannot exist.  To what do I owe this moment?  Is the "self" I was being so bad as to justify the hell it has been cast into?

The answer is silence.

I once heard a voice that seemed to inspire me.  I once felt tears that seemed to move me.  I once heard cries that caused me to look inward.  Now all I hear are echos from my own mind.  The voice now rejects me as if I were poison.  The tears now sting at my soul and keep me from being able to open my eyes.  The cries now are gone and have been replaced by nothing that matters.  I sit here, a soul of wholeness amidst the broken chains that bound me.  The chains only rattle, they do not hold me.  The links fall to the ground as broken shards of a heart once kept whole by the anger that imprisoned it.  It's funny how the bars of the prison can keep the monster whole until the bars fall and the beast explodes, no longer existing but as a fraction of itself.  

Its roar is now silent.

Oh little boy, scarred by those who claim love, brought into the darkness by those who claim to know the light, who do you latch hold of when the coldness comes?  Who is your savior when you sin against your fairy tale?  Who is your executioner when you are no longer needed to be whole?  Time, my friend, will answer these questions.  Time, my son, will teach you truth.  You will come from solitude and be taught who you are only to find peace in the absence of everything you were taught.  You will rebel against who you are in the hopes of finding who you are.  You will cry, you will scream, you will grasp at nothingness until nothingness is all you know.  You will hear a voice that inspires you, you will cry tears that heal you, you will hear cries that cause you to look inside of you.  Through all of this noise you will see the honesty in its absence.  Through all of the clatter and instruction and direction and conditioning you will see the beauty of the what comes before and after the thunder.

You will smile.  You will love.  You will know silence, and in silence you will know your self.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Ranting...

I hesitate to write what I am feeling.  What effects will come of such honesty?  A discussion here, a glance there...then it all falls back into place as it is.  My world will spin eastward regardless of what I do to change its direction.  It's like I am a hungry soul left to the whims of charity, a charity that gets bored with the effort and moves onto something else.  I remain hungry...they feel fulfilled.


There is a lesson here somewhere, the challenge is to find it.  To tolerate those who are not tolerant...to show desire where none is shown in return...to feel full when in the midst of a fast.  Those seem to be nothing but the introductory classes to a doctorate degree, the scratching of the surface to a bottomless glacier the shavings of which melt too quickly to be noticed.  I find the time to find the time but not to do much with it.  How sad.


I am just ranting at this point...the frustrations of having to be the yin to the yang...wait, perhaps I am trying too hard to change the yang to be more like the yin.  Just let that fucker go...see it float away like a hot air balloon over the horizon.  Now that would be an awesome trial.  To not need you or your thoughts of me or your thoughts of others.  I nearly laugh at the idea not because of its humor but because of its simplicity.  How can something so simple be so difficult?  


Well, off to keep scratching and hopefully stop caring.  Not sure what this does, but certainly sure of what it doesn't do.

 

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Little Divinity

In your soul I see nothing but my self,

And in my soul I see nothing but you,

Touching, holding, my little Divinity.

I let go, grasping nothing but air,

"It's not real" I say over and over again,

Until I can almost believe it myself as I tumble into the darkness.

No desire, no longing exists here,

No need to have, yet a have to need,

This bewilderment seems to follow me everywhere.

How does this thorn become as wanted as the Rose?

"Silly question" says the mistletoe to the tree,

"You are mine and I shall suck the life from your limbs."

Such truth resides in this destiny,

I mold it, I nurture it, I allow it to be,

So I swing an ax upon my little Divinity.

When held in intense desire,

Do I puncture you as the thorn?

Or do I sweeten the air you breathe as the Rose?

Do you turn your senses from me?

Or look forward to more?

Which do you find caresses your sweet soul in ecstasy?

Questions...questions...I could scream,

I am as unsure about this as I am about the rotted limb I have rested on,

Such is the reflection I see in my little Divinity.

"You fool" says the mistletoe casually ringing the bells in my ears,

"You have created me and now you wonder why I exist?

Don't blame the nectar for the ugliness you are"

To define myself in how you define me makes me the parasite,

To see myself in what you see in me makes me the fool.

To be my self beyond your thoughts creates such loving ecstasy.

So I must be me in order to be "free",

And I must accept you in order to be "me",

For, after all, I am, if nothing else, a little Divinity.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Choice

So I do not dare find the completeness within me.  What would be the purpose of existing if, in fact, I understood the point of it all?  I don't, can't, will never know it all. That is liberating.

There will be mistakes.  There will be demands to which I cannot answer.  There will be tears to shed and words to be used as daggers forever.  It is our point of existence, our purpose for Being, our mission to which we will never see an end.  For every point of evolution there will be another challenge.  For every loving embrace a bomb shall fall.  For every gentle pat on the back a hard slap in the face.  Imagine this life without the one to balance the other.  What kind of life would that be if we simply had nothing to strive for?

I became pro-life when I started seeing dead children.  I became pro-choice the moment I realized what life would be like without it.   I became free the moment I realized I was imprisoned.  I became liberal the moment I discovered conservatism was a lie.  I became communist the moment I sought to end the thievery.  To which box did you just assign these words?  To which compartment did you just place my thoughts?  To which standard did you judge me at the moment you read simple things entered through a simple keyboard?  Did you even realize that I became these things not through matters of my own creation but through the efforts you provided in order to create me as you wanted me to be?  

My simple answer is "I am".  Create away...make me who you think I am.  Take clay and make it into a vase and it is still clay.  You may make it what you want but, in the end, it is still clay.  And to clay it shall return someday regardless of what I want it to be.  I am meaningless, as are you, except as the Creator, and in being so I am all-powerful.  You are as meaningless as I except as the Destroyer, and in being so you are all powerful, as am I.  We all have this choice, these billions of small moments that decide who we are although not who we were and not who we will be.  Focus a billion times on each of these billion moments as they arise and you will define eternity.


We will make mistakes, and in doing so will continue perfection.  We will slap the face of a friend, and in doing so will be the best friend we can be.  We will turn our back on our brother and in doing so will provide him a target to focus on.  We will ignore our abuser and in doing so turn to face the light of love that surrounds us both.  The balance of the moment will never be distorted by the choice we make but exists because of the choice we make.  Just love who you are and what you do and allow others to be free as well to be as they are.  It's all just so gloriously perfect.


This post is a result of my midday meditation.  It has not be proofread or edited in any way, so please don't shoot the messenger who can't speak or spell clearly.  Just <3.



©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Take me home

I love you.

I have always loved you.

You are in my dreams, you are in my soul, you are the very fabric of my existence.

You are burned into my mind; you are the sight that helps me see.

You are that forevermore.

You are the part that was before the part that is; you are the reason for it all.

And now I rest; sweet slumber take me home.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

I Have Said Goodbye to Anger

So I was alone, helpless as the day I was born.  Actually, I was even more helpless, because in addition to not having hope I knew I did not have it.  So there I lay, floundering in my own despair, searching for a light to guide my way.  I reached for you but you weren't there,  gone was the life-after-life - the solace to which I had become accustomed.


You were my strength; you were my weakness.  You cradled me in your arms as I sat helpless and bleeding.  You stood with me as I faced torment.  You lit my way as I groped down the narrow valley in which I was thrown.  You held me up when I thought I would fall, you pushed me down as I struggled to stand.  You helped me find my way as you kept me lost.  You gave me a name even as I had forgotten who I was.


You helped me escape unbearable suffering as you heaped on the misery.  You filled my cravings as you kept me wanting more.  You kept me from looking by telling me what I saw; you stopped me from searching by destroying all I had found.  You forced me to be who I wasn't so that I could escape who I was; you created disdain for me while holding me true to a lie.   I do not judge you in these descriptions, they are what I see when the blinders have been removed.


I have said goodbye to you.  Not because I see you as good or evil, and not because I dislike you.  I have said goodbye because I no longer need the walls that you create.  I have said goodbye because I no longer fear my shadow.  I have said goodbye because I have said hello to the me that was before I embraced you.  I love you for the experience you have given me and for the now that I live in joy.  I could not have gotten here without you.


Goodbye to you my friend; my foe.  I am sure we will meet again someday, yet I can promise you that I will see you this time.  I will feel you come and I will simply try to watch you go. 

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

When You Are Ready, The World Will Change

You keep creating distractions,
Then wonder about focus.
You keep building up walls,
And then point out the divide.


You keep longing for truth,
While creating the lies.
You keep striving for justice,
While committing the crime.


You keep saying you're lonely,
Then push all away.
You keep saying you're scared,
While creating the fear.


You keep searching for heaven,
While making the hell.
You keep crying about illness,
While not living the truth.

You keep grasping for straw men,
And blame them for failing.
You create the wrongness of others,
Just to pretend you are right.


When you can see all these mistakes,
As human perfection,
When you see angels above 
As the one next to you.
When you see heaven among you
As the cravings are calling,
When you find nature within you,
And find simple truth.


You are ready, and the world will change.


When you can help out your brother,
Regardless of judgment,
When you can hold out your hand,
As your mind is in pain,
When you can forgive what is evil,
As the bombs are falling,
When you can stop all pollution,
Without destroying yourself.


Then you are ready, and the world will change.

Written to me, for me, and about me.  Any correlation between my real experience and yours is strictly coincidental.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Forgive

I tiptoe by the stream,
Faulted sprays of yesterday spray my soul,
I am alive, I am alive,
From there to now - I can see somehow...


Languid waters cleanse,
Wash away the hurt that I have done,
I forgive, I forgive,
To see is to forgive all that's - me!


For what I love is all around me,
And what is love is in me,
I am, I am,
I alone must sow what I alone must know.


To feel, to touch,
To let go of what I thought was me,
I love, I love,
And in the end I will love you, my friend.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Video games and our children

My wife and I got into a discussion about the use of electronics by our children, ostensibly due to my youngest daughter's upcoming birthday and my desire to buy her an iPod touch.  Well, not actually what "old timers" would call a discussion, we were texting each other from about 45 miles away, which is very ironic given the topic.  Veronica was against the idea, understandably given what is going on with kids and electronics in the world today.  It seems wherever you go you can see a young child or teen with some form of electronics (sometimes running into walls while walking), and it is easy to see why any parent would be reluctant to introduce such mind-numbing distractions.  Not to mention the costs of getting that broken nose fixed, most people today are oblivious to the world around them when using electronics, with rubbernecking at an accident on the highway replaced with texting about it and good sound family discussion being replaced with texting and an occasional grunt when asked "how was your day dear?"  So I get it.  How on earth could any parent buy their 6-year old an electronic device that captures their attention better than any explosion could?

Yet, how can you not?

My goal here was not to gift a device that would be used as a new-age version of a pacifier.  It would not be turned over to my 6-year old with the intention of allowing it to absorb her mind like the sponge we have seen so often.  It would not be to hand it to her at dinner so she could ignore her family.  It would not be used in a way that would allow her to miss the world between points A and points B.  It would not be used in place of good, sound parenting to teach the boundaries of living in our society.  Rather, I see it as a way to teach exactly all of those things and allow good parenting to occur.  When I see a person of any age (myself included) so engrossed in their electronic device that they cannot tell you what they had for dinner five minutes ago it does cause the cursory shaking of my head.  When I see an man across the restaurant texting away while his wife is telling him about her day only to realize that the "man" is a mirror I completely understand where my wife is coming from.  When I see a kid so engrossed in a video game at the dinner table that she can't even eat her dinner I get it.  Hold on a second...

...what did you say dear?  Sorry, I was typing on my computer.  Sweetie, you there?  I guess she'll text me.

 Anyway, my goal in getting the iPod touch was multifarious (a fancy word I learned on my computer).  First, I think she would love the games I put on it.  Second, a kid today without a great working knowledge of modern electronics can't set up my home entertainment system for free, which is a travesty in any household (of course the trick would be getting them away from their games long enough to do the work).  Third, it would allow us to parent her and teach her boundaries when using the iPod, something that was certainly not available to us considering my parents would still view pocket calculators as "those new fangled contraptions".  What I see in kids and adults today isn't the fault of the technology, but the fault of parents or of those who are responsible to teach boundaries.  You know, boundaries?  "Don't put your hand on the stove Michael", or "Don't climb on the table Gianna", or "Tom, blah blah blah blah" (I am, after all, still typing on my computer).  It isn't the kid's or the technology's fault when that kid is handed a video game at dinner and allowed to play with it throughout the entire dinner without ever coming up for air.  It isn't the kid's fault that you have to call them 50 times because they can't hear anything but the beeps coming from the screen.  It isn't the kid's fault that they miss the entire world around them because the are trying to get Mario to a new universe.  It isn't the kids fault he loves to write on his computer (I think I just heard something about the need to evacuate...nah, that must have been the PS3 game going on in the living room).


The fault lies solely on the shoulders of those whose job it is to be parents.  It's the fact that we aren't teaching and that we aren't parenting that causes kids to walk into walls.  So, my fear is that when my daughter gets to the age my wife deems appropriate for such games, she will not have the necessary skills to put the damn thing down to enjoy what matters (or to learn that getting to Level 1,000,443 does not) nor the knowledge that what those around her are trying to say is more important that Mario jumping to an alternative universe.  I can almost hear the arguments now between two stubborn females...one not understanding the beauty of the game and the other not understanding the beauty of the world around her as the veil of Nintendo cascades down upon the world she used to see.  So I believe we teach her now so that when the veil does come down around her she can easily blow it to one side to see beyond it, even if Micheal and I would certainly get a kick out of the "female" discussion.  I guess the question still is in me that wasn't really addressed in the discussion (I reread the texts and I am SURE it wasn't).  How can we teach her the place this technology should have in her life if we don't get her the technology and introduce it into her life?  If we don't, she will only learn from the examples of her peers, something that scares me more than any iPod ever will.


The man in the mirror is laughing at me right now.  Damn him and his judgmental ways.  I had better go now before my wife unplugs the compu...


The views expressed here are not indicative of any one person or set of events.  Any resemblance to real events is either coincidental or simply in your own mind. Get over it, if this angers you, you probably need to talk to the person in the mirror.  ALWAYS READ THE FINE PRINT!!



©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

The illusion of identity

I wanted to share this wisdom. Peace!

Light of Love

I do but see those parts of All,
That were never seen before,
When your hand embraces mine,
It's Love forevermore.

In deep and lost demanding times,
With such scoured memory,
To what my friend do I owe this thing,
As the love you've shown to me?

No judgment's breath, no standard's bear,
Just be...just be...just be...
And what is left when this till is dry?
It's the Love to set you free.
 

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

The Path to Heaven (our Source)

It is said that the path of heaven can only go through hell.  If this experience is known, and the way to heaven is hell, then perhaps it must be reasoned that the path to hell is everywhere heaven is not.  If one can see that there is no true duality in our existence unless we have created it, then one can see that there is, in fact, no place that heaven is not.  Yet, perhaps the hell that we experience in heaven's absence (or the veil that separates us from experiencing the heaven that we are in), is nothing more than our creation.   It would be like a guppy in a large bowl who can only see the water saying "there is nothing but this water, no bowl, no air; nothing but this water".  The things beyond his grasp are not absent, they are simply not seen and therefore not known.  If he has not seen it he cannot know it, and therefore cannot experience it.  Yet it is there.


The path to heaven does not appear to me to be something we "get to".  We do not walk aimlessly through this life until we finally die and then see heaven.  The guppy will eventually get to the bowl or the air if he just stays still. Encountering the bowl or air is not incumbent on any action on his part.  Eventually the veil will be lifted.  It is no different in our quest for that which we were told exists, but that which we can't remember experiencing.  We were there before we were "born" and will be there after we die because, in essence, we have never left it.  Rather, we have created water to separate us from the bowl and the air.  We wonder aimlessly through the water.  We fight the currents and wonder why we haven't moved or have fallen backwards.  We dive to the depths and wonder where all the air is and, in fact, question whether the air exists at all.  We create the veil of doubt because of our own actions if they don't work out to the purpose we have also created.  Yet, nothing changes but in your mind.


I believe Jesus was an enlightened man dealing with guppies swimming about.  When he said to follow him, that he was the path to heaven, what exactly did he mean?  Did he mean that being Christian got you to heaven?  No, Christianity did not exist when Jesus did.  Did he mean that preaching and teaching would get you there?  No.  So what did Jesus mean when he said to follow him to heaven?


Look at the stages that are known about Jesus.  He lived as a man, learned his religion's traditions and virtues, and then discovered an enlightened path along the way.  He saw the bowl and the air and although he couldn't tell you much about them, he knew not only how he got there but that they existed.  So, he tried to tell us how to get there so that we could know, and thereby experience, heaven.


Heaven is all around us, but we can't see it.  It isn't because it is some mystical place to which we are not privileged, but rather because of the veils of distraction we have created that block us from viewing it.  Perhaps Jesus wished to offer us an extreme example of what is necessary to lift the veils and move beyond the distractions.  Perhaps, as I believe, this is what he meant by "follow me".


Jesus lived as a man.  He fasted (ascetic), prayed (meditated), and practiced compassion and love.  Those things alone are not enough to know heaven.  In order to know something, you must first know its opposite.  You know day because of night, light because of darkness, yin because of yang.  Therefore, in order to know the paradise that is heaven, you must first know that suffering that is hell.  I don't believe that many of us could relate to Jesus' life as "suffering".  We aren't given that information (although fasting for 40 days and nights would seem to suggest some ascetic form of suffering).  So we are given the extreme in order to understand that suffering must be part of any experience of heaven.  Without it, we simply would not know what heaven was.


So Jesus suffered and died, which in my experience is an analogy for the suffering and death we face before knowing heaven.  That can happen in this existence we call life without the death of the body.  Death is nothing more than the lifting of the veils we have created in order to understand a much deeper reality; a reality that is, at its most quantum level, our Source.  What we call "heaven".  I have died many times in this existence, and as each layer is removed I get closer to the core.  As each veil is lifted I begin to see.


So, in effect, every path to heaven must go through hell.  It doesn't matter if you believe that Jesus existed as a man or see him as God.  It doesn't matter if you don't believe that God exists or have a wonderful relationship with God.  It remains the same for each of us. 

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

Each Cell of a Tree is Just Like Me!

Observance is a gift that should not be overlooked.  I love to just sit quietly and observe everything around me without interfering.  It's refreshing to see the universe spin around me, how it all works just exactly as it should.  I can inhale and get air, I can exhale and give a gift.  All without doing anything at all.

I was stuck, as has been the case a lot lately, sitting at an airport gate just waiting.  Sometimes I find work to do, but this time I just wanted to sit and watch.  Some people where hurriedly rushing about, others were taking their time, some had family and friends and others, like me, were alone.  Some were sleeping, some were being frustrated for one reason or another, others were reading or watching TV.  And some were just doing what I was doing - observing it all.  

I realized something in a memory I had.  I wondered if I viewed this activity from above if it would look like the video of the bloodstream I saw once.  A rush of activity with each pulse of the heart followed by stillness.  In that stillness there was still activity, and  in the rush of activity there was stillness.  It all seemed chaotic yet it all had beautiful purpose; an organization of creation inspired by what was necessary.  When I viewed this video, as I viewed the activity around, me I realized that each component of this activity was individual in nature yet serving a much higher purpose.  Each cell was itself, yet fulfilling a purpose it was created to fulfill.  I have no idea whether or not that cell realized what it was doing, but I realized that it had very little choice no matter how much choice it thought it had.  I must fulfill its purpose, for its purpose was being fulfilled with each passing moment.

With this, my mind shifted toward a tree.  I love trees...they embody what I see as a "microcosm of existence".  Each tree has a component that is individual in nature yet cannot survive without the others.  A branch is a branch.  A leaf is a leaf.  A trunk is a trunk.  Roots are roots.  They are individual components of the universal thing we call a "tree", each integral to the other, each necessary for the other to fulfill its purpose.  In this way, the purpose of the leaf is to give the roots an opportunity to live their purpose.  It is no different when we view anything we can see in this existence; our ecosystem is built on this premise as is our entire universe.  Everything serves everything else.  Nothing serves everything and everything serves nothing.  Light and darkness serve each other.  Both are individual, yet cannot be without the other.  It is a consistent theme in our universe.

Our greatest gift to the universe is just to be.  The cell of a tree's trunk doesn't spend its time worrying about whether or not the cells of its root are working.  They are too busy doing what they need to do.  Our red blood cells don't worry about what the white cells are doing, they are busy fulfilling their purpose.    It isn't selfishness to do what you intend to do because when you fulfill this purpose you provide a gift to others so that they may do the same.  In this way, I am not an individual, but a part of a whole.  I create so that you may create.  You are so that I may be.  Without each other we simply do not exist.

We are no different from the cells of a tree, or the cells of our own body.  We are as temporary as every cell in our bodies (most of which renew every year).  We were before we are and will be after were gone, as this existence is but a transition.  A mighty oak was once a tiny seed, it just kept on fulfilling its purpose without question and will continue to do so even after it has fallen.  We are no different, we are not separate, we are ONE.

So, as I write this on a plane I see all of the people around me.  We are individuals, but one on a plane.  I will look at the ground as we land and see the rush of activity coupled with beautiful stillness.  I will see an entire universe below me, all necessary for it all to be.  This story never ends, this story never dies, and this story never gets old.  After all, it is our purpose.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

"I Did Not Know" (A Practice of Inspiration)

I simply did not know.  I felt the energy the first time our eyes met; like the shock of cold water running down my sunburned back it felt oh so good while exposing what was oh so bad.  I needed it, I needed you but was not ready.  Or so it seemed.  I was an infant, and there you were demanding that I run when I had so much to learn before I could walk.  You weren't demanding, I was demanding.  I could have let you go to your own wonders, yet I selfishly demanded that you walk this path with me.  I was begging for it to be whole; the voice within me saying "this is it" while the voices around me were saying "this is over".  So I ran, blistering my feet softened by self-loathing.  So I ran, abrading my knees with each stumble, scarring my legs with each fall.  So I ran, until you were broken and I was healed.  I learned to run before I learned to walk and I forced you to crumble with the stench of my fear.  The fear that kept me still even as my legs were making the motions you required of me...of what I had to require of myself.  I ran as to not lose you.  I ran as to not have to let go of the only piece of me that felt real. 


Yet I did not know.  The tear-stained site of where your smile once stood remained proof of my ignorance.  My longing heart broken by the steel coursed remembrances of time simply did not know how to beat.  Such pitiful displays of weakness bound us together by sheer force of will - shear force of fear of what lie on the other side of knowing.  My sheer force was destructive; yours moved mountains.  My force caused pain; yours created love.  My will laid barren a once beautiful oasis; yours spawned life anew from a craggy cliff.


So what do I owe this practice of inspiration, this creation brought from the example you have given me?  Your love, my dear, the cooling spring in the desert, the chilly breeze on a hot summer's day.  Your steadfastness in the most uncertain of times; your example of what love is in the midst of a torrent of fear.  My hand is all I have to offer, my heart is all I have to give.  It is yours as I have no need for it beyond you.  Perfection is not my middle name and sorrow follows me as surely as this shadow reminds me of who I am without the Light.  Yet now I know, for you have shown me.  Now I know.


All I know I learned from you.  Others taught me fear, you taught me love.  My life had been a story of suffering, you gave me an opportunity to see.  I am but a sapling, but you helped me break through the soil.  I did not know how great life could be until I realized how bad it was.  How bad I was making it.  Yet from that seed nurtured by what Love Is I stand, a sapling in the woods with you as my Sun, my Rain, my subtle air.  I inhale in joy as I bask in the Love you have given me.  I feel your touch as I enjoy all that being is spirit provides.  In this I know.


What was born from what I did not know I surely now know.  I did not always see this sun, I sometimes lose sight of the way, yet from the darkness I stand still and all I need do is listen.  Listen for you.  Yes, now I know.  I am home wherever I can hear you.

©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ

The Stone Cutter

I received this story from a Facebook friend and was so touched by it that I felt it worth sharing.

The Stonecutter
Author Unknown

There was once a stone cutter who was dissatisfied with himself and with his position in life.

One day he passed a wealthy merchant's house. Through the open gateway, he saw many fine possessions and important visitors. "How powerful that merchant must be!" thought the stone cutter. He became very envious and wished that he could be like the merchant.

To his great surprise, he suddenly became the merchant, enjoying more luxuries and power than he had ever imagined, but envied and detested by those less wealthy than himself. Soon a high official passed by, carried in a sedan chair, accompanied by attendants and escorted by soldiers beating gongs. Everyone, no matter how wealthy, had to bow low before the procession. "How powerful that official is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be a high official!"

Then he became the high official, carried everywhere in his embroidered sedan chair, feared and hated by the people all around. It was a hot summer day, so the official felt very uncomfortable in the sticky sedan chair. He looked up at the sun. It shone proudly in the sky, unaffected by his presence. "How powerful the sun is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be the sun!"

Then he became the sun, shining fiercely down on everyone, scorching the fields, cursed by the farmers and laborers. But a huge black cloud moved between him and the earth, so that his light could no longer shine on everything below. "How powerful that storm cloud is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be a cloud!"

Then he became the cloud, flooding the fields and villages, shouted at by everyone. But soon he found that he was being pushed away by some great force, and realized that it was the wind. "How powerful it is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be the wind!"

Then he became the wind, blowing tiles off the roofs of houses, uprooting trees, feared and hated by all below him. But after a while, he ran up against something that would not move, no matter how forcefully he blew against it - a huge, towering rock. "How powerful that rock is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be a rock!"

Then he became the rock, more powerful than anything else on earth. But as he stood there, he heard the sound of a hammer pounding a chisel into the hard surface, and felt himself being changed. "What could be more powerful than I, the rock?" he thought.

He looked down and saw far below him the figure of a stone cutter.

Just a lovely story, uncompromising in both its simplicity and its message.  


©2010 Thomas P. Grasso All Rights Reserved ☮ ℓﻉﻻ٥ ツ