The Jungle Woman (song concept) part 1
[a semi-automatic-writing excerpt]…
The Capture of the Jungle Woman (from the point of view the jungle woman).
[…] who are you? what do you want? why are you here? where are you taking me? i didn’t consent. what right have you? i will resist. I will leave you. the moment you turn your back, I’m gone. i’ll never be a possession. you people, your society, all trying to possess each other. i live in a world that is wild and difficult. i live with beasts. i live alone and am not afraid. Not until this day. I’m afraid of you and your ’safe’ world of lies and control. you want to control me, not save me. disguise it however you like — as ’security’, as ‘help’, as ‘education’ — but leave me out. leave me. leave me. i’m not yours — not yours to save, not yours to help, not yours to ‘educate.’
i’ll give you an education, soon enough.
you are backwards people, i can tell. i don’t know your language, but i know when you’re telling lies, the look of deceit in your eyes, the clues you pretend not to see. you revel in being deceived. almost as much as you do in deceiving. i am not one of you. i am not confused. you will get no mixed messages from me. i will make my intentions clear, as i do now, as i cry out in protest, as i pull and fight. you have no right, no right, no right. you’ll be searching again by the fall of night.
what is this movement without feet? what is this, this unnatural beast? a lazy life. i feel nautious. but you don’t care. you only wish to possess. i’ll go back to my home, which is the wild, the earth and the sky. and one day i’ll return to my true home and so will you. we’ll meet again and maybe then, you’ll finally understand.
now is my chance. you’re dumber than i thought. and you project your naivity onto me — a wild animal and a free being! i don’t play by your rules. i never learned them. though i discerned them in under a day. and this is the way that you don’t see. the way is to discern but not to learn. to know but not to obey. i speak to all of you, not only the slaves. i speak to the slaves of the game itself.
now who lets out cries and yells? the ones who ignored mine from the start. i will always be free. don’t you see? it’s too late. you didn’t catch my mind in time, and now you never will. i return to the jungle and now I’m the wiser. thank you for this lesson in humanity, so called. thank you. and may you one day be free.
Carving Out New Grooves In My Brain
[Another automatic-writing-majigg from sometime last week. I don’t know, should I be dating these things? Does anyone care? I don’t think I do.]
[…] I try and I still can’t feel what you’re saying, though I can see it clear as day. i hear it like a bell ringing empty of love, devoid of depth. what heartless place do you speak from? cold and calculating, i respect you but go away. don’t interfere here ever again. i have seen both paths, the cold, dark, barren one and the warm, breezy, flourishing golden path of the heart. you know i have to choose the heart now, because i’ve been down the other way, farther than i like to admit. i had a bit of a back-treck to make for awhile. it was more trecherous and yet more joyous on the way back, if you could call it joyous? less devoid of joy. there was a hope. there was a sense of increasing warmth. the return was a return to my humanity. i mistook the path of cold and dark for the path toward god. and I was not wrong. but i was not right. and this path of the heart, it’s the one i desire now, but i’m wise enough despite it all to wait and listen before making my final move. i will not be the pendulum swinging from one way to the other, one falsehood to the other, one lie to another, endlessly. that’s been done to death. i will no longer engage in the poet wars. i will be the free poet who doesn’t call herself poet, because she’s more than that. i love you i love you i love you, you ought to know this. i couldnt say it before, but now, the path of the heart is in sight and i can love you today. but don’t take it the wrong way.
i’ve got a better choice: i will walk between the two paths. it is a high ridge which seperates and connects them. i will walk this nonpath to find the place where they come together again at the other end. but wait, here I am , at the fork in the road, the fork in the road is the destination. but it is a place of indecision so how can that be? it is the place where both connect but yet they lead somewhere — or do they lead backwards into ignorance and duality? it’s like the way we’re born — we are born at the destination, but we do not know what it means until we venture away from it. to reach your destination is to return home, but to face the other way, away from the split, with duality behind you and freedom in front. are we all looking the wrong way? freedom has no paths. it is open and clear, it is interconnected at every point. things are the way they are. one thing does not have to negate another. but you must then make a choice in every second, not between two distinct and narrow paths, paths that lead you, so that you do not lead yourself. no. here, you lead yourself. every direction is open. every step is a conscious and autonomous decision you make in freedom. and it is lonely here. each path in the backwards realm of duality is at least not a lonely one. each thinks it is the path less traveled, but each mistakes itself for the true path less traveled — the path of freedom — actual real freedom — which is no path at all — which is where every path leads, when you are walking your path in the right direction — home. but everyone is walking in the wrong direction, going further and further and further into their narrow tunnel and further away from truth. wrong, though, is the wrong word. lessons can be learned in every place, of course, and there are paths for those who need paths. when they need freedom (and are ready for it), they will know which direction to go.
I must stop concerning myself about paths and directions and simply follow my own compass where it leads. i am hesitant and reserved. i feel uncreative and ignorant. i want so badly to stop writing this, to hide in distraction, to escape facing my limited abilities. i am pushing through a tangled web of knots in my stomach and carving out new grooves in my brain. but they will be easier to traverse the next time. i will be easier to be with the next time.
my cat reassures me with a head butt that i’m on the right track. it is a head butt of encouragement and love.
Miscellaneous Secret #1
I feel them staring, scrutinizing my quiet, earnest attempts to reach some new place that they insist does not exist, but I know does. i reach and reach with a child’s hand. don’t know the words but i understand.
in the still of solitude i am me.
i cut those voices up and cast them out.
this is what i wish, to throw away what is getting old.
release yourself. we are not our brains. return. be discrete. be still. weep as you become untangled. retrace your steps. everyone can.
Metaphor Quality May Vary
[from a semi-automatic writing session the other day]…
[…] it could be said that our choices rest soley on the quality and kinds of metaphors we are basing our choices upon. what if there were a way to filter out all but the best metaphors? — even to feed the good ones into a computer (or our fucking minds!) and have it test out and spit out the resulting lives or choices + consequences that would arise from each metaphor, and every kind of combination of metaphor — we’d choose the results most desirable to us personally — down to specifics — then the computer would generate some kind of detailed chart of the beliefs + values + metaphors and combination of those that would, if adopted (say, via some good hypnosis based on the chart) give us the results we are after. I guess that would be too easy, though, and boring… because what then?
WELL — lets not be too hasty to toss this out — if we made sure that the results we were after were open-ended — that they’d only up a world of even more fulfilling and challenging avenues into the future — then “what then?” could be met with some pretty AWESOME ANSWERS.
I’ll toss that into the universe’s future-forming algorhithmic thingy and hopefully some qualified super-intelligent entity will pick it up and roll with it […]
God Is Not a Human
[scribbled upon waking from an unusually deep sleep, January 25, 2008]:
cloth beds hang from the ceiling in some dark, damp, beautiful - familiar - room. i’ve been inside it in dreams. it’s warm. i listen closely and hear birds and other beasts outside. what time and place have i found myself in this time? i like these smells i can’t quite recognize. they fill me with nostalgia for places I’ve never been, people I’ve never seen, a life I’ve never lived. how can that be? opening the opening, my jaw goes slack. the sky so wide and so alive. i never saw such wisdom in something so other, so not human. i never laid eyes upon the spirit world like this, right here in the middle of my world, spanning an entire horizon and sending me back inside to compose myself. am i awake? i’ve never been more awake. am I alive? I’ve never been less dead. i’m not alone, i realize when a hand on my shoulder with a sweet lady voice attached brings my attention back to the room with the warm smells. they’re her smells and i am not a woman. i am her husband. i am in love with her. she is my true friend. she is a sight like the sky. she is wise. she is alive like no one I’ve ever seen in the time I came from, which was when…? i can’t grasp it like i could moments ago. i feel a sense of mild loss, and it is replaced with a sense of gaining everything. so this is my real life. so this is my real home. so that was all a dream. there is no sun here, just the light of truth everywhere. there is no sadness, not in this moment. but I do know of it. it can be felt, even in this place. probably because sadness is a beautiful color too, when it’s sung right.