Meditation at 2:46 am, July 27 2009

Feet nooked into crooks of unorganizable tradition,
with ins of the ocean blues and outs of the sky reds,
pointed by a south facing compass,
directed to a linear north,
we sat hovering over chakras,
breathing in the most particular of subconscious states,
we sent pulses back and forth through the triangular third eye,
in effect, pulsing our rigid and loose spines.

The beyond countless inorganic sand beads clogged our pours,
cleansing our skin;
And the ancient cliff condom canyoned out the cold of the breeze,
warming our flapping garments;
And the moon shone through our sleepily aware eyelids of screens,
animating our beings;
And the waves of little form, all integrity, lapped with our lungs,
releasing our irevrent tensions.
New things I thought,
and decided upon.
New things Leah heard, and then thought,
Remaining decidedly undecided.

Those incremental clicks of nostalgia ticked round and round and around,
glistening in the moonlit shadows,
beseeching that loss of conscious awareness.
I, restlessly calm, raking the true grass of the earth,
Leah, withdrawn in listening contemplation,
never to submit, always to insight;
Us, together, unattachable by non-connection,
sifting through spirit’s many unnecessary files,
doing away with the bad,
retaining and criticizing the good.

Bows were bent,
Quotes to marvel at,
were spewed forward;
Lines to be remembered, forgotten, fittingly rearranged
were then remembered;
Rants symbolically perfect in length and complexity,
were made images of purity,
Salutations to a vacant sun were made,
and,
Purpose of life was felt.

-Jared A Muscat (and Leah)

some quotes happened upon by the crew that week
“If it is remembered to be forgotten, it is correct it was not forgotten to be said.”
“It is impressive to perturb.”
“It is in moments of random spontaneity, that true brilliance is organized.”