Daily Moon Phases

Friday, July 21, 2017

The Swooning Mind.

     Some things are so terrible... it gets my mind all swimming. I sometimes wonder about how the like attracts the like when I turn to alcohol to perform an operation called homeopathy. The only problem with that, is it leaves headaches behind, and I already have enough of those, so... what to do?
Strengthen the resolve to be firm whenever the flood hits the mind so that I can't even focus! oh my! very clearly on anything. There's a whole different world when that happens. You revert to the heart and strengthen that relationship. 'Heart, help me, where are you? I need to hide for a while.' You become closer to the whole Being within you. But it still hasn't helped in the matter of a floating swooning mind. Oh how to deal with that next? Where to delve and find a solution!? So that I may advance.

The chord connections! Ah! Maybe if you unplug this, and plug it into there... what an experiment. Hopefully I'm on the right track. Must be careful. Looking for a solution, not a breakdown.

That's right. Life here brings its puzzles and uncertainties, but we'll get through by being certain of whatever step we take is directed by the heart, that her footprints are what we are looking at when we look down in the sand before us, or up in the sweltering rays of the sun above, leading us on to wherever we are suppose to be and for whatever purpose. In the meantime, ohmygoodness, hide.

Here! A poem. To mess up the mind, to unravel then straighten it out again.

By Theodore Tilton

ONCE in Persia reigned a King,
Who upon his signet ring
Graved a maxim true and wise,
Which, if held before his eyes,
Gave him counsel, at a glance,
Fit for every change or chance:
Solemn words, and these are they:
"Even this shall pass away!"

Trains of camels through the sand 
Brought him gems from Samarcand;
Fleets of galleys through the seas
Brought him pearls to rival these.
But he counted little gain
Treasures of the mine or main.
"What is wealth?" the King would say;
"'Even this shall pass away.'"

In the revels of his court,
At the zenith of the sport,
When the palms of all his guests
Burned with clapping at his jests,
He, amid his figs and wine,
Cried, "O loving friends of mine!
Pleasure comes, but not to stay:
'Even this shall pass away.'"

Lady fairest ever seen
Was the bride he crowned his queen.
Pillowed on the marriage-bed,
Whispering to his soul, he said,
"Though a bridegroom never pressed
Dearer bosom to his breast,
Mortal flesh must come to clay:
'Even this shall pass away.'"

Fighting on a furious field,
Once a javelin pierced his shield.
Soldiers with a loud lament
Bore him bleeding to his tent.
Groaning from his tortured side,
"Pain is hard to bear," he cried,
"But with patience day by day,
'Even this shall pass away.'" 

Towering in the public square
Twenty cubits in the air,
Rose his statue carved in stone.
Then the King, disguised, unknown,
Gazing at his sculptured name,
Asked himself, "And what is fame?
Fame is but a slow decay:
'Even this shall pass away.'"

Struck with palsy, sere and old,
Waiting at the Gates of Gold,
Spake he with his dying breath,
"Life is done, but what is Death?"
Then, in answer to the King,
Fell a sunbeam on his ring,
Showing by a heavenly ray--
"Even this shall pass away."

by Theodore Tilton

Many shades of grey matter.

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