speaking into hearing

Posted in Uncategorized on May 23, 2012 by adamkizzia

I imagine that in an world that is an illusion it would be illusionary words that would ring most truly.  Even if the truth could be spoken I doubt our ability to hear it as such.  Fallacies must echo more serenely in the walls of our false worlds.  My mind thinks that thinking in its highest form is in and of itself doing just as doing in its highest may be being.  For being is the highest known thing as it reaches into essence itself.  For when thinking and speaking and listening becomes an end to themselves they move to be an act of our holy doing as building is doing or sewing is doing or anything of that nature.  Further, that doing can sink into the sea of our being as we begin to be healing or killing or this way or that way to another or to none but ourselves and even in some ways only into that essence as everything touches it, though nothing holds it. 

It has been my thought in times that our often delusion of dream does reach out in some sense of masturbatory emptiness.  Worse, and as I wrote into my prayer book over a year ago, we often find ourselves painting a fire on our chest but as the dying draw near they only find a cold image of their needs and desires.  It has served as a form of torture, to my thinking, that my thinking and speaking in complexity and self supposed rightness often do not aid me.  In fact fancy words have often made me feel sicker.  Yet, in the rise and fall of this tidal being I now find a place wherein I feel a certain sense of hope stirring, and I feel no need to dismantle the kindling in order to examine the integrity it holds.  We know this is in fact most likely only to kill what small beginnings may exist.  Instead my intention is to encourage the little flame with necessary pace.  As I reflect in the quiet of the morning I am reminded of the bigger sense of being beyond such a current moment, as this.


How I feel tonight.

Posted in Uncategorized on May 2, 2012 by adamkizzia

Rarely or never have I had such simple intentions in typing in a blog like this.  My feelings tonight, though they may seem a bit nonsensical are in essence only sensical, as feelings are, excepting that the senses do connect often to much bigger realities.  Let’s say, if life really does have clear cycles then I believe I have wrapped around to some sort of youngness.  But not some refined and matured wildness.  Emptiness!  Emptiness that I consider good!  What an odd feeling to try to explain.  I’m not wholly sure as one is rarely wholly sure until much time has passed and the unfolding has commenced of time and growth and passing.  I’ve been a number of things, detached and chaotic and so-forth  on the passing of the last piece of time.  Let’s call it like the ebbing of tides or the moon slowly peeling back, waning, until the sky is empty except the glow of the stars which shine a bit brighter on those nights provided the clouds allow it.  In one space I am young.  I think how I am the age, I believe, people such as my friend troy once was when we met those years ago before all the transformation of his inner soul and the wedding and the face tattoos, and all that is now.  Strange to think I am only now the age he was then.  Yet I have had my own transformations these years and my own tattoos not on my flesh but perhaps a bit deeper.  I’ve ridden freight trains for thousands and thousands of miles, I’ve hitched up and down every hillside and walked with my eyes down and up and I’ve seen love and terror.  I have felt so intertwined with others and so melded into their flesh as if we spoke some secret language beyond our daily conversations.  I don’t feel that so much right now, not at this particular moment.  No, I feel like everyone is a stranger right now, in a sense.  But again not in a bad way!  In a way I feel like I have new eyes that have never seen anything and looking on people I just want to dive into them and explore the depths of who they are.  Yes, but I feel as though I should be much more aged.  If only for the abuse and terror and darkness that I have seen, and that I have been waist deep or drowning in from time to time over these last few years.  Yes, In one space I feel I should be deeper somehow, carved out by time, made better or something, if not just weary.  Yet, I feel childlike, but not the whimsical childlike people often speak of.  No, I don’t feel any memory of childhood like blurred ecstatic joyfulness.  Maybe this is because my actual childhood was not really like this.  My feeling is much more sober than that.  I feel like someone took away my old wine and my old wineskin and handed me an empty glass.  But in reading this know this sort of sobering blankness is nothing but a strong point for me.  It is instilled in me more than anything is instilled in me that to have nothing is to have all you need.  I suppose to try to verbalize it for you, which probably doesn’t do much good, I would say that with all the ups and downs and successes and failures and imagined things and projected things and all false things to source my self worth or whatever other sense is worth sensing or treasure is worth treasuring somehow destroyed within me I am left feeling tonight in a sense finally empty.  But in this emptiness I feel only myself in g-d whole.  The innate value in being, not dependent on anything else.  As you also have such an innate value in being.  And so, I hope and pray you feel this too.

Wake up Dreamers

Posted in Uncategorized on April 7, 2012 by adamkizzia

If you are in the darkness sit and be still and you will see the light.  I mean this literally.  We are complex and incomprehensible mystical beings.  We are deep, and deeper than we know, all of us.  Everything about us from our psyche to our history to whatever other name we’ve placed on the intricacies of our being, places us in whatever incomprehensible, ever moving, state we find ourselves now.  In so, know that wherever you are, personally, may not transfer with such immediacy we desire to where we will be, or want to be, or must be.  So be still, breathe, and take heart.  I do not believe we need to or even can understand it, but we must move in it.  We must move for movement is life.  So, don’t take this as an act against acting.  We suffer mostly from our inability to move, and so live.  We suffer in dreams, when dreams never touch the living.  Movement is life and we must move with a fullness, or rather we must move with a wholeness.    However there is a movement also in our stillness and in fact if we can not be still where we are at, we often will not be able to move so wholly.  I met a kid named Jimmy the night before the first raid at occupy, in Oakland.  He had written the word Intimacy largely with a marker on a piece of poster board and thrown an I-Ching lot over it and written the results below.   So underneath it had the result which was the hexagram for decay, as well as the word written boldly above it.  It bothered me.  Probably because I could feel the decay happening in an ever growing camp of people coming from everywhere having to bond together and deal with police, the city, media, if not to mention each other.  Weeks into it everything was still going strong in one sense, but there was certainly a sense of decay, as strong of a word as that is.  But there was Jimmy, with his wild eyes, just walking around holding his homemade poster above his head speaking to whoever came to speak to him.  I came up with an air of weary trouble, I’m sure.  It didn’t help that I barely slept for those first few weeks and worked more than full days mostly spent in the kitchen and I was probably a bit more out of my mind than usual at that moment.  Jimmy asked me what I saw in the reading and in the word Intimacy.  I muttered a few things I was thinking, and then he began to speak about it.  As he began to explain to me what he saw it hit me strangely because in a way it seemed like he could only see good in it and was even in a celebratory determiner the whole time.  Honestly, a lot of times, very often, I can’t understand anything he’s talking about.  I had more times with him and in fact in our second wave of encampment we became organizers together for several things, including setting up the prayer tent that sat in the middle of camp.  Of what he said that night, and many other times, I could only translate little bits for myself through what I suppose people call a very esoteric understanding of things, but I appreciate him for it.  What he really reminded me of was the deep spiritual truth, as all truth is spiritual, that we must find peace where we are.  So today, be still with God and if it doesn’t solve all your problems, it’s OK.  I don’t feel some great sense of earth shattering peace, I don’t even know what I’m going to do today.  Honestly a lot of things in my life have been very strange lately, and I’ve felt off and detached and unsure of what I’m doing, but this is something I wrote for you so you would know this is where I am at and I am not afraid and neither do you have to be.  Today when I finally do get still I can hear that peace whispering somewhere, and when we do find ourselves fully pulled from our sleep, even now as we slowly begin to stir, I am excited for that time as well.  So know also that despite whatever struggles and weariness and heartache and heartbreak at least I have undergone these last few years, I still believe in so many incredible things.  Sometimes I feel like my heart is breaking in half, but I still have so much hope.

Also, don’t get me wrong, I have certainly had necessary moments of enlightenment howling at the moon or crouching naked on a hotel end table staring at crappy TV slamming energy drinks and eating a jar of peanut butter with my bare hands, but let’s just say there are times for many things. 

I dreamed myself alive

Posted in Uncategorized on March 13, 2012 by adamkizzia

There are a lot of things I don’t understand. That is obvious.

When people tell stories, or even talk about what they do with their days sometimes they try to justify their lives in conversation.  At least that’s what it feels like.  I don’t think it’s just the people who are so unusual either.  It seems to be some sort of deep seeded insecurity found with almost everyone I meet.  Of course this doesn’t come out of no where.  People are searching for how they should live their own lives.  I know I often recognize things are wrong.  Do more of this, do less of that, do the right thing.  It’s hard trying to do what’s right, and failing, while also continually seeking and hammering out what that even should look like, what that right even is. I’ve made enough complete turnarounds in my life to both give me some sort of great hopefulness and leave me hopeless at the same time.  We could be suffering from the expectations of others, but even that could be rooted in the expectations of ourselves.  How can we be expected not to be self centered when we walk around every day looking from our own eyes onto an ever-passing scene, yet how can we not be ashamed if nothing else then for our own inconsistency.  It’s hard enough to love each other in spurts as we do.  Imagine if our friends could see the full line of our ups and our downs.  Imagine if they could see our hearts, sometimes.  We trick ourselves into thinking we are shallow beings.  Each one of us that flashes by holds within them the depth of life, and what can I even say about that?

I am not an especially skilled person.  I do think I can be imaginative, but when it comes to a tangible creative force I’m lost.  A couple chords on the guitar, a few elementary looking doodles in my notebook, some mediocre food, and I’m spent.  I don’t know any real skilled work and the things I do, do are slow paced.  There’s really not much that I do.  I have plans to change these things, but of course I have had other plans to change these things.  I do suppose I’m good at making plans, if you can call uncompleted plans good. Despite the childhood adage I think fast and steady wins the race, and I am neither.  I’m not complaining, I am trying to be honest.  I want to be honest, though I’ve found myself shockingly dishonest lately.  Maybe not so much dishonest as confused.  There are a lot of things I don’t understand.  That is obvious.  Honesty can bring out reality, and  reality is the only  place  we can really find healing.   Otherwise we pretend until reality  sweeps in, then we suffer.  If  there’s a chance  for goodness in  the  world let’s  honestly reach for it.  If there’s not a chance for it than I would have been gone a long time ago.  Either way my point is more to that I have peace in my inability.  I have met people that are good at things.  I have met great artists.  I have seen great mountains, but that doesn’t make me them.  Sometimes it doesn’t seem to make anything different.  What  I want you to know is that I am not ashamed of my inability and I don’t feel like less of a person without these things and you shouldn’t either.  I know it’s hard to feel stable a lot of times.  This world makes me feel crazy.  I know it’s not right.  I  know things are messed up and I also know I’m not the one to fix it.  I have these ideas in my head, but there are a lot of things I just don’t understand.  That is obvious.

There’s noise rushing in our minds: people, sounds, entertainment.  Our community was supposed to be different.  We were supposed to be able to speak and to listen, to truly communicate.  What are we now? After the last five simple years what has happened to the ideals and form of our collective body?  When will we be above pettiness?  What of those that have been tossed aside?  We give up so much, and for what?  We are divided and splintered, bitter, cold, and afraid.  Even places which have been refuges for me, seem so full of noise so often, without harmony or depth.  I know it is there if we can call it out.  Each one of us that flashes by holds within them the depth of life, and what can I even say about that?

There have been times, including quite recently, when I get so frustrated with people’s shallow ways it causes my body to want to split into a million pieces. I can be pretty shallow too.  That is obvious.  What I say, what I think, what I do, what I eat, what I wear, where I am.  Sometimes I want none of it.  Sometimes the feeling and even the thought creeps into me that the only right way to exist is to never exist.

We must become like the moon for when we see the moon we see only the sun held in a body, like wine filling the frame of its glass.  It is not the frame but what it holds that brings life.  We know that.  Sometimes we paint a fire on our chest, but when the poor come near for warmth they are met only with death.  May we then speak less and be more.  It is sickening to dwell in ideas of ideals.  I have certainly learned that, if nothing over this past year.  I want to be an instrument of God’s peace but I always seem to tune my strings until they break and I never seem to get notes out.  I have forgotten how to love people and also my self.  I am sorry.  I have been so hard, pushing the hands and neglecting the heart.  I’m sorry friends.  I forgot the people I love.

In Russia, Tolstoy idealized the peasants.  Their simplicity and humility was more valuable to him than even his own learned theory and idealism.  I realized for my own relationships, and life these are the things I need more of.  For now these tricky words I say only serve to make me sicker.  I’m sorry I only speak in metaphor.  If I had something good to give you’d think you could see it in my life!  People always think people who believe differently than they do are being tricked.  I agree.  I think we are being tricked!  I think they are being tricked, and I think we also trickers ourselves, even if we don’t intend to be.  If I could describe God to you I would say God is everything that is not a trick.  Some things are easier said than seen, or said than heard, or said than understood.  Speaking is for understanding, but why speak to people who can’t hear?  How many layers of circumstance must a word go through to reach our ears?  It’s no wonder we can’t seem to hear anything.  It’s hard, pulling the weeds and looking for the fruit.  It’s hard knowing what is real.  More and more I have learned to bang the gong of mystery in the great song of life.  If this brings peace so be it.  I saw a baby pause and stare in wonder as she saw the face of a bear stretched across a pillowcase.  I thought what mystery it must be for her to see a face like that.  I knew she knew, I could see it in her eyes.  Then she surprised me.  She began to laugh and rub her beautiful little face right into the pillow.  May it also be with me!

We don’t need to understand the ground we walk on to stand on it, or so I tell myself.  Humility isn’t the suppression of reality as some people treat it as.  It’s the realization of the reality of how small and passing we actually are.  It’s nothing to be afraid of.  I feel it’s something to celebrate.  Allow it to set you free.  Religious peoples of the past gave away a tenth of things to others as if all things didn’t already belong to God.  We didn’t make the ground we walk on or the air we breath and how can we deserve it or own it.  We are passing.  There was a time I didn’t see meaning and beauty in anything.  These days I see meaning and beauty in the birds and the fields and the nice things, and when I have it most together I can see the beauty reflected in silly things that should probably go like sidewalks and this silly plastic crap I’m typing on.  God is the seeker and we are the sought.  Some people look for God in holy places and other ask God to come and I see this too, but where are we that God is not?  The kingdom of God is here.  There we can let go of both pride and shame, and we’re just left with peace.  Find rest in this life, and take heart.

Do not turn your hearts to theology.  Turn your hearts to God.

Salaam Shalom.