From: intraphase@gmail.com

THE STATE PARK


We would giggle as they would retreat in the pretense of a
calm departure. As the night would come it was time for business.
The Death business is a tricky business: always one holds
the sum total aggregate ability to annihilate his Whole party,
sometimes it would shift, but usually it was me. It is the only
way of a leader. Death must be sure and swift and the leader must
die first; then the other warriors can measure their bids by
watching the leader.
The last great journey had been one and a half years before.
We followed a stream of death up the side of a mountain and found
a long rock that lay on the side of the mountain, halfway below
the tree line, halfway above.
Altogether, it lay about two hundred yards tall and a
hundred feet wide. A glittering beacon of life from which the sun
would reflect in the afternoon, beckoning the unwary:
“Come, climb the Silver Mountain; know its secrets.”
The mountain held no secrets. It was the sirens song, which
is sang to seekers who have but an afternoons experience with the
mount; the place that the gullible wanderers call, The Shining
Rock. And shine it did. Down below in the valley: the temperature
was regulated by clocks that nature hewn. Above, on the mountain,
all is change, a struggle between absolutes. Down in the valley a
person might long for the intoxication of light, which can be
felt on the eyes and skin above the Treeline.


Anyone who is a climber knows death is a friend, it waits
patiently, it speaks with the rapture of beauty, and vistas never
before gazed upon.
Yes.
I have climbed the mountain with as much pretense as any fool.
I was fortunate. The fatigue from the climb had angered my heart
towards the illusive promises of rapture.
If I want rapture, I’ll create it. I had formulated my tactical
and ingested the essence of my strategy:
I Ascend,
I would Peak,
I would gaze on the Vista,
I would allow a grain of Rapture.
Close my eyes: turn one eight zero, and retrace my path.
So as to be able to quickly return to the safety of the Treeline,
with the stolen memories locked within the deepest crevices of my
Being Presence.
___ I made my Leap into The Nothing ___
Oh how I laughed: a great warrior, a death defier, moments
of True Sourcing; I was out on the fringe, I was pure, I was
immaculate, I had gazed into the face of Pure Truth, and I had
snarled: "Fuck You!" ...ahhhhhhh, those steps as I returned to
the safety of my humble encampment just below the Treeline.



[]


Rolling Stones -The Midnight Rambler
https://youtu.be/DRot9IjNSso

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