2012-06-11

What If Dogs Did Run Free, Bob,


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

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