120608 Truelaw
Outlaw Junction What If Dogs Did Run Free, Bob, Edition
Well...,
lissenin' to the finest piece of music and lyric on the planet, one
of the first tracks I owned in record-form, “If
Dogs Run Free” by the
Master, Bob Dylan, soaked in wodka, and after midnight on a windy
mountain top, I did let my
thoughts at least, “run
free” for a milli-second, and LO!
As
I was talkin' to the Galaxy, we mused over how “life”, as we were
focusing on my little little phenomena, way, way down here on Earth,
would be, if Dogs DID Run Free.
And
Galaxy answered...........
Now,
first, y' must unnerstand, that unnerstanding what Galaxy says, is
bigger an ask than any mere mortal, or indeed immortal Human corpus
has, or can......, unnerstand!
Cousin
Possum here, has always unnerstood the Galaxy, when Galaxy talks to
him.
It's
in his fabric, part of his mind-eye, every night, when it's not
cloudy, to attune hisself to the machinations of the Cosmos, of the
stars, of the cosmic winds, and storms, and their expressions in the
subtle languages we actually all feel and reflect and are a part of,
in our sojourn through existence.
Poss,
so attuned as he is, like the True Fellas of Forever Time, know it,
but know it not, in that it is so deeply integral with his breath,
with his dance, that he has forever transcended beyond, above the
conscious recognition of mere knowledge, and assumes it, insumes
it, subsumes all of it into his every act, every breath, every heart
beat.
In
English, we might call it “”Balance”.
“Cosmic
Balance”. Exactly like the True Fellas of old times, who, down
here, translated it into English as “The
Dreaming”.
But,
HEY!
I
wuz talkin' to th' Galaxy, about things down here on
Earth.............................
Lo-ong
pause.......!
1st up, Heshe said ….......... like Heshe
always does at start of things, or conversations.......
“Aaaa
- uuuuu - mmmm”
But we'll abbreviate it here to
“AUM!”
'Course, when Galaxy talks, one word as we know
them, can take thousands of our earth years.
So,
1st lesson is, we gotto
be patient!
Ne'erthelesssssssssss...,
LEAPin'
outta the solar system, so-as to be on similar levels and thus terms
with Galaxy, I DID Run Free for a nanosecond, but enough to talk to
Galaxy.
When that is, I could get a vowel or a
consonant in between Heshe chatting away with other Galaxies around
Heshe!
And,
in a nanosecond, I realised that nothing I, or you, or the whole
population of our tiny planet could say, added-up to a mosquitoes
fart, compared to the conversation happening between Milky,
and Andromeda!
Something of a shock to me, to me of the we, of
the small, small, small, extremely small “world”, we of the small
small small world of Earth, call “Earth”!
But that's what's goin' on, way up there, way
way out there, in between the scopia our highest tech space
telescopes can photograph, record, or capture.
Galaxies, talking to each other.
To be expected, they'se not talkin' 'bout how
Mrs So-an-so's boy got arrested, or about how Al Qieda is fairin',
against the first world's elite, or 'bout the heroic copper who saved
Granny Salvador's cat from the tree.
“No-o-o-OOOO!”
(Deeply....!)
In fact what the Galaxies talk about between
themselves is soooooo deeeeeeep that it is below our minuscule Human
ability to conceive of!
Nevertheless,, that we have no hope of attuning
our minute minds to their dimensions, something taken for granted,
yet not proven as the actual case, has no bearing on the existence of
conscious Galactic-sized Intelligence, of Galactic sentience. And of
long-evolved presences so big that they are beyond anything or being
or construct our small reality could ever conceive of.
But....,
they are there!
And,
like a disinterested, but ceaselessly observant person being aware of
a microbe on their skin, Milky
observes Earth.
And passes thoughts onto neighbouring, and
distant galaxies, and the many other large, large, I mean large,
constellations and combinations of very mature stuff.
And LO! Look over there? A vehicular crash
between two galaxies!
But, out there, where the Cosmic Dogs of the
Cosmos Forever Run Free, there ain't no police, or ambulances, or
towies to clean up the mess.
And there ain't no traffic lights, bollards or
laws!
No hospitals. No medicines. No bandages. No
artificial limbs.
Just Black holes.
And they talk too!
Big, dark talk.
And
you don't, if you should ever get the opportunity, talk back
to
them.
Oooooh-no!
Once you attune the Mind to the Cosmic, usually
after transcendence, and are then free to run wherever you fucking
like, the most amazing visual experience falls to being a faint
tickle, even while seeing those magnificent galactic scenes as
depicted by our earthly super-telescopes and technological
enhancements.
The
sound of colour, the color of sound, part of the 4th dimension,
become part of you, as does conversation with the Galaxy, or
Galaxies, if you are large of Soul enough to party-line with more
than Milky.
But - WARNING! - there's no going back, to
being a minuscule six billion cells inside a sheath of skin!
But the conversations, albeit that they go on
for several mega-light years, once unnerstood, reduce one's desire to
return, reduced, to anything less than galactic.
Oh Swoon! At each vowel, at each consonant, at
each pause, at each kiss, conjoint and seduction!
Oh ORGASM with a Black hole!!!
To die and at once be there fully alive at the
big bang, to burst, to burn, to be thrust out, forever out!
To
talk, to kiss, to embrace, to Commune with
Galaxies,
as Dogs Run Free!
All
Praise the Immortals!
All
Praise the Warriors who have fallen
Fighting
for a Just World!
from
the Traveling 4x4 Tent of
BLUE
MEANEE
Omaxa
bin Eartha
aka
Max Earth
Anchor,
for
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