Reading: The guidance of an older brother

A perspective on the art of reading

Reading is about possibility. Reading is about looking at a set of things that might happen to you so that you know what to expect when it does. A book says, ‘If you take a left and follow the river, there might be a cliff side. Here’s how you might go about getting down it.’

Reading is merely about identifying what to expect, and then bringing that foresight into the world of experience subtly.

A common fear is that if you read, it will take the magic out of the discovery. This is a false fear. Reading brings another perspective to the discovery. There is the feeling of discovery, which is magical. There is the unknown. And there is what you were expecting to experience. These three will never truly match up completely. If seemingly they do, then it is not difficult to add the magic back in. Anyone who has ever had a conversation in ‘gibberish’ with someone knows this.*

Going into the new year, consider reading as a mentorship from an older sibling: ‘This is what I’ve seen. This is what you might expect to see. This is how you might go about dealing with it. Take it or leave it!’


-Ben

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*If you don’t know this, then try it: Have a conversation with someone in gibberish, not thinking about the words, no filtering, just simply saying whatever comes to your head. Let the gibberish speak for you. The conversation topic can be about whatever you want. It will change your perspective on interaction.

Living with an Open Heart.

The first time I felt my heart open after 5 years of it being mostly closed, and another 5 of it being most completely so, I finally understood what had been bugging me all this time (and why I closed it in the first place). This opening felt overwhelming, in the sense that with my recognition of the love that I felt in that moment, fear that I had not felt in years returned sharply.

People that have closed hearts mostly are not aware of this. They simply attempt to fill it with other means, and have mostly forgotten what it feels like to truly love. When one veers so far from the feeling of fear, and of love, it is easy to forget why I do anything in the first place. This is because in the same way that those who are numb do not feel love, they are also numb to their own feeling of fear. It has become a vague memory to them, an itching that never leaves, and echoes every action and every moment as an underlying buzz, as it had to me. In me this manifested in a trying to escape the present moment by any means necessary. I was an escape the moment ninja. I could backflip over my own insecurity towards the chocolate and ninja star my laptop on in mid air.

I understand now that one does not wait to feel. Ones simply faces their suffering and opens their heart by relaxing into it. One always loves (as one always fears), it is merely a case of recognising it in the present moment. It is a practice of opening ones heart in the present. Opening up to love also opens you up to pain, suffering. The truth is however, that you were always loving, and always in pain. You either live with this awareness and participate in the expression of this loving and fearing, or you let it love and fear you.

When you begin to practice the opening of your heart, to love and to fear (suffering), in the present moment, a path of inspiration magnetises you. This seems to be the path of right action, and if you can live in the present with an open heart, feeling your love and your fear, yet still continuing in the direction that is opening and beckoning itself to you, then you can live with full conscience and purpose.

A good read on this practice of living with an open heart would be ‘The Way of the Superior Man’ by David Deida. I’d highly recommend this to men and women. However especially to men. The same author also has other works that are more specifically directed towards women which may feel more appropriate. These can be found online also with a quick search.


-Ben

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Patience

From fallow bliss,
Love’s remiss
To recognise a natures kiss
When paralysed among the shallows

From faith in wanderlust
Resting such
To quiet where the settled dust
Magnetise assists

When to resist
The pleasure, youthful amethyst
Then realise the painful truth
That love or not
Is all that we can do

 

A long forgotten syncretist
Found in me and you

 


-Ben

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Also, as this is my 100th published blog post (!), I would just like to take a moment to say thank you to everyone who supports me in my endeavour to create a safe space for others in the form of this blog. I’m truly grateful for all of the kind words.

Love to you all. x

Winter Flower

Protean water condensates in the Winter Forest,
Cumulatively
Weighing on air
Until it breaks.

Falling to the earth,
To seed the flowers
That do find their roots.

While mumblings
of Good and Evil,
Love and hate,
Unfelt,
Linger in the thoughts of Troglodytes.

The gasp sounds
Of a Sunflower in the Winter Forest.

Letting go,
Becoming yellow in a glow,
Open to the music of quiet.

The Flower gulps a last breath and withers alone in the wind.

And the Troglodytes…

Meandering accessories’
Fabian spirits
Of unfit or the due.


-Ben

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Photography by eberhard grossgasteiger

Pulse

A message from nowhere,
Here it sits.
In contemplation
Of unknowable perspective

Whirling around, around, around
A pool of conscience
Testing
Testing
Watching
Till the movement gives
And the lights go out.

In, out of time.
On, off, on again.
The space in-between creates the universal pulse
To which one dances.

‘Til

Bars closer than you know.
In the throat
Or as slats of oblong oscillating bone,

Tautly strung as a web of ideas,
Holding floods in their film.
Damming them
As a fire to be set free.


-Ben

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Logos

Reduced to daily use.
Logos of seeming
Meaning, don’t let us lose them.

Assuage the cycles.
Amalgamate cultures’
Creation, as long as we use it.

Singular Stupid Perusing Fantasies
Vacuous lows-
-Creatively knows.
Underneath the detail
Reveals a vaster apparition.

Drifting Miles.
Miles; Lines of Encyclopaedic scripture
Adding to the ends of markings
As ancestry falls

From the edge of earthiness
Into the void of esoterism.

All that ever was
Emulating all that is.
Lines of symbols,

Reduced to daily use
As logos of seeming
Meaning.
Don’t let us lose it.