What a day

 I met a man today who came to my aid.
I was Stranded and stressed,
Mind was a mess.
Car was dripping gas,
and the battery couldn't get a grasp.
He told me he had recently died.
Lost a lung and a rib,
before waking up sick.
There were no gates,
no lines of light,
just darkness,
pure, pitch black.
He had never been a religious man,
but something about the whole thing didn't sit right with him.
I didn't get a chance before he pulled away,
to tell him,
that darkness makes life,
even more sweet.
He had a ninja turtle shirt on,
He told me to call him Raphael.

When a rock becomes a plant. -Excerpt from, "Rock bottom, where wildflowers grow"

 I was busy in the garden, pulling weeds, pruning overgrowth, and then, in a flash, I had an insight.  While my fingers forced themselves through layers of dirt, under the sweet, sweat producing kisses from the sun; I was able to see, with pristine clarity, the same actions taking place inside my mind. They were the same, but different. Prior to this point, my conscious mind was in a quite simple state, fully involved with the physical activity I was engaged in. "pull, pull, dig, dig" "ah, that one is growing strong." But during this flash, I was able to feel, hear, and see a deeper current of the machinations of mind. For each weed my fingers flung, deep inside another old thought pattern became undone. For each plant I chose to prune, so too did young thought-forms change shape, and grow more true. Something else was coming into view, I could almost...

..."Did'ja know rocks turn into plants?" A raspy unknown voice said off to my left.

Whatever revelation or alternate perspective that I had been experiencing, de-materialized in a flash which, felt even faster than the one which brought it on. I thought I was alone, who the hell...

.."You've got to be reallllllllllllllll patient though."

I turned to my left, and on the edge of my property I saw a man I had never seen before. He was a small man, 5ft if I had to guess. He was elderly, with that upper-thoracic curve which pervades the aging populations. His face was completely obscured by the shadow of his wide brimmed straw hat. It made me immediately aware of the positional relationship between the afternoon sun and this strange man who stood before me. The sun was high, as if it stood directly behind him. Now that I was really looking, almost all of his features were enshrouded in shadow. He was leaning on my fence with his right elbow, and although he looked relaxed, I'd have bet money he was up on his tippy-toes. 

"Rocks can turn into plants?" I asked, clearly conveying skepticism in my tone. Before he could reply, I added, "I've never heard that one before, got any proof?"

"Ha.." he scoffed.
"PROOF?" he asked in a way that got on my nerves.
In fact, I quickly realized the tone of my "Rocks can turn into plants?" was the same as his "PROOF?" As if I, were the irrational one.

"Proof-proof-proof....Proof.... A silly word, isn't it?" Although his face was still obscured in shadow, I could tell he turned his gaze directly at me.

"All words are silly," I said, pretending to focus back on my weeding, "but that doesn't mean, that the meaning behind them are.

"You have to be realllll patient," he said again, with a heavy emphasis on real.

"Huh?" I said. I forgotten he that he had said the same thing before.

"For the rocks son, for the rocks to turn into plants." he said in an insisting way.

"Right." I said and started to gather my things to walk away.

"Just think about it" he said, raising the pointer finger of his left hand, pointing it at his temple.

Cultivation

 Living through echos of emotion,
Events & patterns from years of attack.
Sitting Safely,
Breathing, long,
Still my system believes something's wrong.
Sometimes struggle,
a fear choked throat.
Sometimes wisdom-
Rains down my front.
Sitting safely,
Breathing, long,
I reintroduce my system,
to the feelings of calm.

Shadows

 A shadow is not the absence of light, but rather the absence of the strongest local light source.

As outside, so within.

The shadow is not static.

The shadow is not vain.

The shadow is an echo of the boundaries and shapes, that the light of awareness, casts across the landscape of mind

Ego's stench

 Arrogance is not the only thing which stinks of Ego,
so does Insecurity.

The Ego fears love because it has no defense against it.