The Selves of the Self at the Upward Dance!

Come hither, fine lads!
Gather ye 'round the Mad Theatre 
At the advent of midnight. 
Gather ye, for the show is about to start!

Each day I do something different.

Even when I still work on and finish what I set myself to do, each day I do something different.

The same stone is not to be stepped on twice, or least (and for better purposes), the same stone is not to be stepped on in the same manner: some days we jump on it; some days we walk on it; some days we dance on it; some days we fly with it; some days we caress it or meditate on it; some days we drive a hammer through it, and build something new out of it.

Each day I do something different.

I think I finally am glimpsing at the nature of cycles.

I read somewhere that a man cannot cross the same river twice. Similarly, the world and people are never the same from day to day. Change is always operating in life, vibration is in everything.

When I deem it substantial to start a project and ignite it, the same aspect of me who decides to initiate the project will not be the same aspect that will finish it. The successor aspects of the aspect of myself that initiated the project will be the ones to carry the project forward, work on it, adapt it, and bring it to completion.

The self is composed of many selves, all of which are vehicles for consciousness to express itself through. And each aspect is possessed of a particular nature, specializing in something particular in proportion to that nature. The selves of the self are fluid, and they overlap constantly. Although they may be known and defined varying in degree, they are still interconnected. Surely, Lover Me, Philosopher Me, and Wall-Spotter Me would not work in the same manner, or follow the same procedures because their characteristics differ from each other’s.

Image by Ruth Archer from Pixabay

Life is in constant flux and reflux. With each breath we are born anew, and that makes the NOW the only time that is. The echoes of the past slip away like water through our fingers, and the future is framed in parchment, in blood, in toil and stain, in bliss, and with all manner of appliance unseen or clear in the chamber of our minds.

Still, all moments happen in the NOW.

The world and what is thought of as reality will never be a piece of immovable brick. Even a brick is composed of energy vibrating at a certain rate. And if the world was “immovable”, neither life nor any kind of movement, neither change nor evolution would be because there would only be stasis in the nothingness of being.

So, why not get to know ourselves, and learn to harmonize and work with the myriad cycles of all there is to the advantage of our life’s adventure?

Why not have fun on purpose while we still breathe?

Why not make our existence a fulfilling one?

Your experiences are yours to devour, a gift from yourself to yourself.

Reign of the Righteous

“Lazokar, Lazokar, let the empire rise.”

Deep within the Balkans

sits a crowned shadow –

eyes fathomless, the spirit of a warrior.

Wrought by the cruelty of a world lost to chains,

he has vowed to never be weak again.

~*~

Lazokar, Lazokar, no longer a slave.

Lazokar, Lazokar, his own sovereign.

Chilly spring brought the promise of a new horizon.

A daemon strange danced and sang in red lace.

A daemon strange evoked the taste of an old crave.

And she danced, and she said,

“Lazokar, Lazokar, let the empire rise”.

~*~

Deep within the Balkans

sits a crowned shadow –

eyes fathomless, the spirit of a warrior.

Holding the hand of a fiend of war,

the empire shall rise wise and energised.

Shrouded by dark that turns into light,

the king burns with faith renewed

in a world of made delight.

~*~

Daemon Red and Shadow Crowned orchestrate and pirouette.

In every breath, they sing and say,

“Let the empire take in upmost eminence”.

~*~

And if there were to come a time

when oblivion sieges the black sovereign,

the daemon fierce still will stand –

still will vocalise,

“Lazokar, Lazokar, let the empire rise”.

In soulful bane night,

the daemon red still shall slay the enemies of the crown –

spreading the venom of liberty for all frailty to chock down.