Streams of consciousness
by Sukaina Juma
20 November 2011
***
Streams of consciousness
to focus the thoughts
Oh, but I'm better off
not having any thoughts
Oh, there's another one!
It's the same thought I had last year
Again?
Yes, again
Streams of tears that fall down
the delicate cheeks of
each of my friends
at different times, alternate realities
and situations
Do I love those less who do not
or can not show me
their tears?
Leaking again, I am
and does it matter?
How is it I can allow others to be
and not myself?
Another day ends
and the tears are dammed
The flow is stopped
The trust dissipates
Yet I know there is no trust
except Thine!
Streams of beautiful golden and pink
and emerald green fountains
wash away my Self
wash away all selves
from my sacred space that is
And yet
they all rush back
to show me to myself in another dark, shadowy form
I wish not to face
And face it I must
I travel, oh how I travel long distances
to belong to that which I thought I belonged to...
And I see a prism,
characters and personalities,
using language and communicating nothing
from the heart.
And, so, I look like them
And I almost sound like them
And they look at me and know that
I do not belong
As I know all too well.
So what happens then?
where do the lost souls gather?
where do the lost souls find solace?
when their only soul connection
is with the Divine
and that is a myth, that is Real and True
yet intangible.
One cannot belong to God.
Can I belong to Him?
Certainly not to the God
they still
ordain
as my Lord.
And the all-encompassing Creator
I want to believe exists
Is a stranger, or is too loving for me to accept!
Fascinating!
I want unconditional acceptance
and love from my equals
of denser flesh.
And when I am shown that
He that is All
is the only one who would
ever carry the capacity to do so...
I balk.
I defend.
I reject.
Surely God cannot love me all the time,
in all states and all conditions!
Such a God cannot exist,
such a God,
any God
cannot exist!
But my fellow creatures,
with the same talents and limitations as myself
surely can
give me that which I seek...
And when they decry otherwise,
I ask again from he
who has nothing in his cup
to give me
C'est absolument fascinant!
And I, the humble healer,
Am I still the vessel when my cup is empty?
Am I still the channel
when the slightest thing can
lift me out of my body and make for unreal experiences?
Am I still lovable
when everyone rejects me
for who I am or what I do
or just because they can?
Ahhhh!
They do it because they can!
And anything other than
forgiveness and acceptance and love
is repeating the cycle
and enduring the suffering.
Have I woken myself up
only to go back to sleep?
Because awareness is futile,
uncommon,
turns me into smoke without direction,
a heart without healing,
an actor without a Soul,
a being without Beingness.
Shall I ever make sense?
Do I want to make sense?
Or do I secretly enjoy
speaking deep truths in
all contexts, in order
to watch them watch me
as though I
do not understand
and am not understood?
Flow, ebb.
Ebbing away...
This life is ebbing away...
My time is still precious,
even if my life no longer is.
My heart still seeks to speak out, to be heard
even if my voice decides to hide
because it is unsafe to be spoken.
Yet.
I don't know
what the message is,
anyway.
So why would I say anything if I didn't know?
We have enough of those well-meaning
speakers out there...
There is enough mayhem!
Compassion over judgement.
I shall not judge this litany
that probably cannot
be considered a great work.
At least I feel open now.
Unburdened.
Chuck, chuck, chuck it all out...
If we are all connected on a intensely deep
level
and on a infinitely high
level,
why do I disconnect
or encourage others to do so?
How is it there is either no one here?
Or that they are here,
and I choose to disappear?
Ca ne fait pas du sense!
When is one ready to let go?
Let go of the ideas that
we are helpless and small
and embrace that everything is perfect?
All came down out of choice.
All remain out of choice.
Breathe, breathe,
for crying out loud,
please breathe...
my little one.
It all goes back to the breath.
Someone told me, a dear person,
that it will get better tomorrow:
it always does.
I hope your tomorrow has come,
because I still await mine.
Balance.
Balancing the emotional upheavals.
And the rejection with acceptance,
And the self-sabotage with compassion,
And the arrogance with the realisation that
a person can be connected to the source
and still mock a people for believing in
healing.
And all of this is just to show
This is all stuff and substance...
I am connected to Thee at all times
Even when their words and their beliefs
unground me.
When I feel invaded.
Thou art always there.
And on the occasions when I
disbelieve
That means I am one step closer
to believing.
I may actually suffer the worst
and end my last breath by not believing.
And yet, Thou Knowest that Thou Existeth
and that everything is unfurling perfectly.
And funnily enough,
that is all it is.
It is all that is needed
Thou Knowest that Thou Existeth
Bring me back towards that which
eludes me.
Or to that which I defer.
The spirit is willing, oh so willing.
But the flesh is weak.
I defer to Thee
My Lord, my Life, my Light.
I end in silence
gratitude for these senseless words
that override the senseless
violence
ravaging my soul
yet again.
by Sukaina Juma
20 November 2011
***
Streams of consciousness
to focus the thoughts
Oh, but I'm better off
not having any thoughts
Oh, there's another one!
It's the same thought I had last year
Again?
Yes, again
Streams of tears that fall down
the delicate cheeks of
each of my friends
at different times, alternate realities
and situations
Do I love those less who do not
or can not show me
their tears?
Leaking again, I am
and does it matter?
How is it I can allow others to be
and not myself?
Another day ends
and the tears are dammed
The flow is stopped
The trust dissipates
Yet I know there is no trust
except Thine!
Streams of beautiful golden and pink
and emerald green fountains
wash away my Self
wash away all selves
from my sacred space that is
And yet
they all rush back
to show me to myself in another dark, shadowy form
I wish not to face
And face it I must
I travel, oh how I travel long distances
to belong to that which I thought I belonged to...
And I see a prism,
characters and personalities,
using language and communicating nothing
from the heart.
And, so, I look like them
And I almost sound like them
And they look at me and know that
I do not belong
As I know all too well.
So what happens then?
where do the lost souls gather?
where do the lost souls find solace?
when their only soul connection
is with the Divine
and that is a myth, that is Real and True
yet intangible.
One cannot belong to God.
Can I belong to Him?
Certainly not to the God
they still
ordain
as my Lord.
And the all-encompassing Creator
I want to believe exists
Is a stranger, or is too loving for me to accept!
Fascinating!
I want unconditional acceptance
and love from my equals
of denser flesh.
And when I am shown that
He that is All
is the only one who would
ever carry the capacity to do so...
I balk.
I defend.
I reject.
Surely God cannot love me all the time,
in all states and all conditions!
Such a God cannot exist,
such a God,
any God
cannot exist!
But my fellow creatures,
with the same talents and limitations as myself
surely can
give me that which I seek...
And when they decry otherwise,
I ask again from he
who has nothing in his cup
to give me
C'est absolument fascinant!
And I, the humble healer,
Am I still the vessel when my cup is empty?
Am I still the channel
when the slightest thing can
lift me out of my body and make for unreal experiences?
Am I still lovable
when everyone rejects me
for who I am or what I do
or just because they can?
Ahhhh!
They do it because they can!
And anything other than
forgiveness and acceptance and love
is repeating the cycle
and enduring the suffering.
Have I woken myself up
only to go back to sleep?
Because awareness is futile,
uncommon,
turns me into smoke without direction,
a heart without healing,
an actor without a Soul,
a being without Beingness.
Shall I ever make sense?
Do I want to make sense?
Or do I secretly enjoy
speaking deep truths in
all contexts, in order
to watch them watch me
as though I
do not understand
and am not understood?
Flow, ebb.
Ebbing away...
This life is ebbing away...
My time is still precious,
even if my life no longer is.
My heart still seeks to speak out, to be heard
even if my voice decides to hide
because it is unsafe to be spoken.
Yet.
I don't know
what the message is,
anyway.
So why would I say anything if I didn't know?
We have enough of those well-meaning
speakers out there...
There is enough mayhem!
Compassion over judgement.
I shall not judge this litany
that probably cannot
be considered a great work.
At least I feel open now.
Unburdened.
Chuck, chuck, chuck it all out...
If we are all connected on a intensely deep
level
and on a infinitely high
level,
why do I disconnect
or encourage others to do so?
How is it there is either no one here?
Or that they are here,
and I choose to disappear?
Ca ne fait pas du sense!
When is one ready to let go?
Let go of the ideas that
we are helpless and small
and embrace that everything is perfect?
All came down out of choice.
All remain out of choice.
Breathe, breathe,
for crying out loud,
please breathe...
my little one.
It all goes back to the breath.
Someone told me, a dear person,
that it will get better tomorrow:
it always does.
I hope your tomorrow has come,
because I still await mine.
Balance.
Balancing the emotional upheavals.
And the rejection with acceptance,
And the self-sabotage with compassion,
And the arrogance with the realisation that
a person can be connected to the source
and still mock a people for believing in
healing.
And all of this is just to show
This is all stuff and substance...
I am connected to Thee at all times
Even when their words and their beliefs
unground me.
When I feel invaded.
Thou art always there.
And on the occasions when I
disbelieve
That means I am one step closer
to believing.
I may actually suffer the worst
and end my last breath by not believing.
And yet, Thou Knowest that Thou Existeth
and that everything is unfurling perfectly.
And funnily enough,
that is all it is.
It is all that is needed
Thou Knowest that Thou Existeth
Bring me back towards that which
eludes me.
Or to that which I defer.
The spirit is willing, oh so willing.
But the flesh is weak.
I defer to Thee
My Lord, my Life, my Light.
I end in silence
gratitude for these senseless words
that override the senseless
violence
ravaging my soul
yet again.
