Enablers of The Fifth Element (Love vs Sex 257)

Rainbow Bright: Sometimes I wonder if I want too much from love. Or more specifically, too much from someone else. I’m in my forties; maybe I’m immature or naive in that way. Maybe it’s time to accept a caring partnership with someone who would recognize my existence on just a basic level – enough chemistry for attraction and enough of the right interests in common to keep things enjoyably enough anesthetized. I’ve heard it said that one of the main reasons we choose to partner is just so that our lives are simply noticed by another. Maybe, that’s all we need.

There is however, this ferocious part of me, albeit idealistic, that yells and screams at the top of my lungs “Hell No!” So much of life has to be lived between those damned lines, why must I compromise here, why??!!? I want to feel consumed by a man who is absolutely expanded by me. I want our own little metaphoric boat or island where it is all ours, us together, strengthening one another, standing in union against the rest of the madness. I’m not just talking about the lusts of a new relationship, the simple transitory thrills of a honeymoon phase. I want the peace of a deep emotional bond and connection, but I want it to glow red hot. Maybe that’s not love, maybe it’s something different.

Do you ever wonder if you just need to settle?

The Introverted Lion: Poetic, Inspiring, broadly perceptive, and just damn unbelievably beautiful.

Rainbow Bright: No. It’s pissed off. It’s self centered. It’s arrogant. Doesn’t anyone feel like this? How is settling for someone any less than someone settling for me? Screw that. Maybe that’s the issue, the angst, the fight that I feel I can’t let go of, that I can’t relinquish. Is it my age that seems to be pushing me more towards tolerance of the minimum, towards the least that will do for me to be able to hold my breath and just get by like everyone else does? But isn’t it supposed to be the other way around as we get older, as we grow and learn and supposedly mature in our own enlightenment? How is it I want more, while everyone else seems to prefer less? Do I just want to go out with a bang instead of a sigh? Sounds arrogant. I don’t think these are feelings of desperation. There are a few “nice enough” guys out there, but meh. What the actual hell??? Damnit, I should not have started talking to you.

Sometimes it is better to consume than question.

The Introverted Lion: I understand. Thought about all of that myself, once or twice. Sounds good, but it is an end to madness for you, me, and everyone else. Most suppress it better than we would, but it’s always fucking there, always. They just package it up in some other “description” or “disorder” or keep themselves sedated with some form of analgesic addiction or delusion. If you settled, we would never have crossed paths. We are in the same tribe. We are of the same energy and connecting with you has intensified my passion and love and hope for being with someone “like you” while experiencing the rest of existence. You have already increased the love in my heart. You have already bestowed upon me the titillating, yearning, and vibrant force of what you say might possibly only occur in dreams of unreal expectation. It is the condensed essence of life and union of what you speak. It is the undying flame of transcendence which continuously sparks our energy to connect, crackle, and create, all of the beauty and grace in the world that we are capable of.

You are an angel and you are an enabler of the Fifth Element.

The Introverted Lion and Rainbow Bright

2018

These Real Women, These Real Angels (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 249)

Praise be to all of existence

for the sexy, intelligent, aware, passionate, and empathic women that I have been honored to meet lately.

Their beauty is outstanding and damn near breathtaking to me every moment I lay eyes upon them.

They are angels blazing in the glory of graceful creation

and the weak minded materialistic women of such little empathy,

and such off kilter priorities in the breath they breathe and share with all others,

are not worthy of even standing in the shadows of these real women,

these real angels.

Sometimes,

it’s so easy to forget that they are out there also trying to survive in all of the madness,

enveloped and hedged in unceasingly by the greater herd of zombie females,

and also hunted persistently, yet in some half-hearted lingering tortuous nightmare attempt by the “love” of the prevailing zombie horde of males,

but I have always dreamed of them,

always known they had to be real,

like the sun and the moon,

and the wind and the rain,

your own heartbeat beating through your chest,

your own tears streaming down your face,

your own breath caught and then released,

and your own uncontrollable laughter and joy that possesses all of you until you believe you might spontaneously combust into nothing but tickling flames to be spread across the rest of the universe forever and ever.

I love them.

I love them all beyond words.

I have always loved them and I always will.

And that is the way it is meant to be.

It is the undeniable beauty of natural order,

not broken or numbed or cut the fuck out of a once gorgeous soul.

These angels,

these exquisite women,

symbolize to me more than anything else that I might imagine,

the capability of attainment of astounding beauty and profound love

that exists in the choice of free will alongside

the similar capability of those others

who choose to squander, insult, and defile their free will,

and the very nature of all of existence itself.

Cribb          2018

Past a Certain Point (Love vs Sex 253)

 

Control (a nickname of a person) could not get the image of the biologist out of his head. The look on her face in the empty lot—that blankness—and then, later, in the sessions, the warring of contempt, wildness, casual vulnerability, and vehemence, strength. That had laid him low. That had expanded until it hooked into the whole of him, no part of him not committed. Even though she might never know, could give two shits about him. Even though he would be content should he never meet her again, just so long as he could believe she was still out there, alive and on her own. The yearnings in him now went in all directions and no direction at all. It was an odd kind of affection that needed no subject, that emanated from him like invisible rays meant for everyone and everything. He supposed they were normal feelings once you’d pushed on past a certain point.

Authority

Jeff Vandermeer          2014

Maybe You Should Tell Them (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 238)

The most beautiful creatures that I have found in this universe hold the world upside right and keep it from twisting upside down on a constant basis. Their efforts go underappreciated by most despite their endless contribution to all and their filling of everyone else’s bucket but their own. It seems natural for them as if they might be an angel of existence hellbent on spreading their light and love to any corner of the universe that is particularly in need at any given moment. So few truly, genuinely, and devoutly lift others up, even their own flesh and blood, but these angels do and they do it without question. They are rare. They are exquisite. They are beyond beautiful. They shine like a wayward comet streaking through a dark night to stir up all of the moon glow, fairy dust, and other precious particles of primordial light that normally swirl about our souls too silently in their radiance and energy for us to acknowledge and to accept; too silently for us to believe, to have complete and utter faith in. These gorgeous creatures awaken all of us from such silence, disbelief, and despair. They shine undeniable and unassailable light and love throughout all the realms of existence. That’s just what they do and if you happen to be fortunate enough to cross paths with one of these extraordinary angels, maybe you should tell them, break your own silence for them as they have done for you in their essence and existence. Maybe you should tell them that you see them, that you really do see them, for who and what they choose to be.

Cribb          2018

No Hell (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 218)

Mama said the stars are the universe’s eyes.
I can feel them watching over me most of the time.
We grew up believing we could learn how to fly.
We came from the earth, but we belong to the sky.
I saw your soul without the skin attached,
and you’ve got the guts of a coyote pack.
We’ve been kissed, we’ve been cut, but we do what needs the doing.
We’re just rainbows dreaming we are human.
Please excuse the lights shooting out of my head.
I keep them in a cage, but they come out when they see a friend (you must be a friend).
You’re never really gonna have control of it all,
so you best get cool with where your chips gonna fall.
We are the sun and mother’s milk and cuss words and poetry.

There’s no use in running, unless you run like heck.
The best things we’ve learned, we learned from the wreck.
Jesus coming back as a woman this time,
handing out hugs in the clinic line.
Someone tell the devil we don’t need no hell.
We’re all pretty good at beating up ourselves.

As kids we believed that the angels talked.
Everything is magic, til you think it’s not.
It’s easy to be thankful for the things you’ve got.
It takes guts to give thanks for the things you’ve lost
We grew up believing good wins over bad,
So you gave away your heart but the wolves attacked.
(But then a bigger heart grew back)
Please excuse the words coming out of my mouth,
I’m a happy man, but there are some things I need to get out…

There’s no use in running, unless you run like heck.
The best things we’ve learned, we learned from the wreck.
Jesus coming back as a woman this time,
handing out hugs in the clinic line.
Someone tell the devil we don’t need no hell.
We’re all pretty good at beating up ourselves.

Cloud Cult – Lyrics*

*You should check out the song if you are not familiar with it.

Everybody in this Space (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 217)

The truth is that we are so used to a one false move God, that we do not consider and appreciate the no matter whatness of God, the God who is just plain ole too busy loving us to be disappointed in us. That is the hardest thing to believe, but everybody in this space knows it’s the truest thing you can say about God.

Father Greg Boyle, a Jesuit Priest famous for his decades long gang intervention efforts in Los Angeles.

This is an excerpt from an On Being interview w Krista Tippett.