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Sunday, February 26, 2012

Los Angeles 2012: Continental Islands Of Stars Lit From Within

This year of more
I imagine
that I can see
in the eyes
of everyone I meet
their personal star ...
their star quality.

I live in a city of tourism,
at a world famous beach,
egos centric in the land of artistic ideals.
The tourists who arrive daily
from all over the world
arrive with preconceptions.
I am grateful to everyone
who shares with me
their preconceived ideas of America.

I was born in Canada,
and that is fortunate
for many reasons,
mainly because it provides me
an outsiders view from the inside out,
and an insiders insight
from an outsiders point of view.
I recognize the smell of roses during the day,
and know why sweet grass is burnt at night.

From my inside I look outward,
and sometimes interact externally.
From my inner world I witness my Self creating
what I command to manifest outwardly into being.

I am grateful,
I grew up with nightly playful star fields,
dancing Northern Lights,
energy bursting into flames of creation
in constant formations transforming -
the night sky lit up from within
was my normal above me,
and beyond me
point of view.

It was typical for me to witness
the constant infinite flow
of ever changing forms.
To learn to bead the patterns of stars,
and weave baskets in the shapes of the universe.

I often meet people in cities
who will not, or cannot, imagine
what it is like to see
vast fields of stars illuminate skies each night.
They have yet to,
or may not,
glimpse their own insignificance
in the expanded-picture nature-of-creation.
They will not,
or have not yet,
connected to their own significance -
the profoundness of their own individual life
experience becoming more.

I am grateful for my ancestors
that they have lived
in North, Central and South America
for thousands, if not millions, of years.
In the past when I travelled from this land
to other continents, I shifted -
I felt an inner shift ...
that can only be described
as a sensation of disconnection -
similar to a cord being pulled taunt ...
a tightening of the heart-cord to my solar-plexus.

My solar-plexus connection altered
into kind of unkind survival mode,
and assumed a kind of poverty consciousness.

My core-mind-field of energy spun out dizzying me,
revolved around my belly button
then lowered into my pelvic floor.
The landscape of my inner world journey ...
tilted until I felt,
felt the crown of my head,
in candesently filled,
full of wisdom,
dipped in an adventure,
to ease my access to my quest for vision.

In the past, my always internally-active Self
taught me to guide mySelf beyond me -
beyond what I had so far imagined my life to be.
My ancestors guided me,
taught me to listen to my Self,
to see, what I have,
yet to imagine into being manifest.

When I leave my ancestral land,
this shift of ages
used to prompt my cellular memory,
remind me of all of human history.
I remembered the advantages of reinvention -
domestic truths of foreign stories,
foreign truths of domestic stories.

The most obvious concepts of reality are seldom true,
perhaps were never true, were only ideas seeking believers.

From my inside I look outward,
and sometimes interact externally.
From my inner world I witness my Self creating
what I command to manifest outwardly into being.

The people who come to the city of angels
come to see the stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame -
many do not stay at the beach
to see the stars in the night sky appear.

Each newly arrived person I meet seems to know
the history of their own individual native national culture,
it's connection with the Americas -
and their own personal and ancestral history
with the continents known as the Americas.

Spanish know some of Spain's history of interaction here.
French know some of France's assimilation here.
Africans know some of the stories of their ancestor's reinvention here.
Asians know some the travails of their colonial past here.
Ascendants from North African and Central Asia know things.
Descendants of English, Scottish, Irish and Europeans found out things,
but did not discover the secrets of the new or old worlds within, the Americas.

I hear so many different points of view about the same thing -
the same world, the shared planet, our same world, our shared planet.
I have yet to meet someone, arrived here, from somewhere else,
who knows the history of these ancient tribal ancestral lands.

I do see people arriving to search for their lucky stars -
wanting and wishing to see the fame of the fortunate.

I learn something from everyone,
no matter where every one arrives from,
and no matter where they journey to next -
in the eyes of each person
I have learned to see the light of the stars.
Eyes are stars illuminated from within,
reflecting back out
the truth of our own inner light.
Each set of eyes displays each individual life story.

Sometimes when I am star light gazing,
I see into the person whose eyes I am gazing into.
Some times
I glance their Self-fullness.
I sense their Self-leadership.
I witness their Self-individualization.
I feel their Self-empowerment.
I recognize their Self-recognition.
I become aware of their Self-awareness.

I am entranced by the variety of stars I have looked into.
Each one of us is a singular event of unique individual formation.

Our bodies of matter are lands full of stars.
I recognize Self within us each one of us,
our star quality of Self, my Self, you and your Self.
Star fields within bodies of light, within each one of us.

A friend of mine from India was visiting for a few days.
We exchanged our Self's perception
of our Self-recognition -
the variety of stars within Self ...
within one, and an other,
within all That is ...
within all that might ever be,
within all that might ever be willed into Being manifest.

Without questioning my Self ...
I meditate
to see my Self within the islands full of stars,
populations of planets glowing brightly from within.
I meditate
to see if I can recognize my Self
as a star living within the biosphere
of my individual body's planetary life.
Do I recognize my Self among all the stars.
Yes, I see me within me.

Life is simple when each life form is recognized
as a single form of life.

Life seems more complicated when,
each life form is viewed as a group,
and grouped as a whole to be seen -
and then seen once again,
as an individual within a group of individuals.

Self individualization, is the Self, tapping cellular evolution awake.

We all are, made of the same ingredients,
there are no races, only one species of humanity -
light souls within bodies of sound.

I am grateful. I grew up with nights full,
of dancing Northern Lights, the eyes of the universe
illuminated from within - playful painted colours of creation
illustrating alive, the transparent veils, of constant transformation.

The night ceiling, lighting up above me
was my existence's sky, of infinite abundance.

This year, of constant change, makes it easy to not expect.
This time, of consistent shifts, make it easy to not plan.
This space, of flux, creates graceful recreation, which relaxes anticipation.

Each day is full of ease when I relax
into a constant relationship with breathing my Self alive -
being in charge of my being alive,
my being the one and only leader of my own life.

Each night is, wide awake, with potent dreams
of awakening, each day, to more, of my Self-recognition.
Awakening, my Self-leadership, power growing,
and cultivating my abilities of Self awaking.

This year, of constant change, gifts me more.
With more I expand, my ability, to recognize my Self and see you.

This year of more, more constant change
to recognize my Self more, and see life more clearly.
Being creative, is having power, to create more presence,
and being present, is what forms creation.

This year of more, I imagine that I can, see in my eyes my Self -
and I imagine that I can, see in the eyes of everyone I meet
their personal star quality.

I often meet people, who will not imagine,
or cannot imagine, what it is like to see into people -
see in their eyes, their stellar illumination.
Some people have yet to, or may not,
glimpse their insignificance,
in the larger picture, scheme of creation.
These people will not, or have not yet,
connected to their significance -
of how profound, their own individual life experience,
is uniquely fulfilling, their destiny in all ways, always.

Cities of angels,
continental islands of stars lit from within ~
this year of more star quality
reconfiguring transformations of the light within ...
more cellular light, within more, patterns of light transmuting.
More augmentation, of more abundance.
More relaxation, into more constant change.
More moving, star quality within stillness within.

To relax more, is to become more aware.
To recognize Self more, is to see life more clearly.
Imagine our universe, made up of planets.
Imagine planets of worlds, made up of cities of angels -
continental islands of stars lit from within.

~~ Other People's Fingerprints ~~
In 1936 James Hilton and Robert Riskin wrote
the movie screenplay "Lost Horizon".
Frank Capra directed the film,
and it was released to the public in September 1937.
While people watched the film "Lost Horizon",
Japan invaded China in 1937 and the Second World War
began on the 1st of September 1939.
This human's searching for meaning during wartime and upheaval,
was the political landscape behind the philosophy of the making of this film.

Because, my son, I am placing in your
hands the future and destiny of Shangri-La.
For I am going to die.
(There is a pause during which Conway
cannot conceal his amazement at this
simple statement.)

I knew my work was done when I first
set eyes upon you.

(Conway is too awed and impressed to
utter a sound. The High Lama finally resumes.)

I have waited for you, my son, for a
long time. I have sat in this room and
seen the faces of newcomers. I have
looked into their eyes and heard their
voices - always in hope that I might
find you . My friend, it is not an arduous
task that I bequeath, for our order
knows only silken bonds. To be gentle
and patient, to care for the riches
of the mind, to preside in wisdom, while
the storm rages without.

Do you think this will come in my time?


You, my son, will live through the storm.
You will preserve the fragrance of our
history, and add to it a touch of your
own mind. Beyond that, my vision weakens.
(pause - magisterially)
But I see in the great distance a new
world starting in the ruins - stirring
clumsily - but in hopefulness, seeking
its vast and legendary treasures. And
they will all be here, my son, hidden
behind the mountains in the Valley of
the Blue Moon, preserved as if by a miracle.

(The voice of the Lama, toward the last, seems to fade out.)

(Conway, thoroughly engrossed, half-consciously waits
for it to continue. Following a protracted silence,
he slowly turns toward the Lama.
A breeze blows through the room,
ruffling curtains on the window.)

(From whose face the glow has faded.
There is nothing left but a dark-shadowed mask.)

(He stares, uncertainly, for a long while,
with a slow realization that the High Lama is dead.
Quite unaware that he is being moved emotionally,
tears well up in his eyes.
While still sitting this way, unable to stir,
he becomes conscious of activity around him.)