(“Ascending Triptych” aka “Shape Shifter”, 2011, original oil)
If it exists it has a function.
What is the function becomes the question,
Along with why and how it evolved.
Consciousness is simply our experience of the world
And this applies to whoever we are
Plant or animal, insect or human.
Consciousness is thus a given
For living things having experience
Even though self-consciousness
May be extremely rare and unique
And rightly prized
Although wrongly attributed to Man alone.
Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
The egg of course
And that egg, the cosmic egg, we all arose from
Could have simply been consciousness.
Or it could have been what was born
From that egg, the light released after
“Let there be light!”
Which means there was something before
Consciousness.
Something primary to creation
A creator, of pure awareness perhaps,
Who needed creation
To become conscious.
(5/20/26)
Seeing and being seen changes both the looker and the looked upon. A watched clock seems to hold its breath, hands frozen, its self-consciousness exposed. A furtive glance, once stolen, lingers too long and ripens into a stare. Awareness slips into self-consciousness. The moment the watched one feels observed and the looker looks away, the game is up, and the power changes. The watched one now has control with their stare, commanding the field of attention. It's a see-saw game of self-consciousness; power flipping with each returned look. Every watching eye casts a shadow. It's a silhouette of exposure. It must acknowledge this, step into it, and learn to dwell within, hiding. The eye sometimes seeks to be noticed. It wants to evoke a reaction and show its presence, rebounding. In that mutual eye-to-eye recognition, love begins.
when eyes meet and hold,
attention flips from lost stares—
to love caught ensnared
Loose self-consciousness, be one of "The Few."
Struggle up the mountains, taking in The View
See grandeur of bold progress, yet remain teachable
serving in love, be loveable.
Persevere, laughing all the way.
Make the devil pay!
Heart's desire to do the will of God Above,
Giving joy and offerings in simple Love.
Step by step and sometimes stumbling
But always in sight of the King,
Unflinchingly obeying and worshiping go,
Then resting in His arms His smile you'll know.
Priceless blessings for you and all,
Through Jesus, with you at every call,
Being transformed and changed,
Your life rearranged.
Repentant in abject remorse
Brings The Saviour close of course.
There's the sweetness of coming Home
Never to be alone, even as we roam
The Heart's Interpreter awaits our focus
With a Heavenly peace and joy for us.
Singing but not enjoying,
Multiple keys I'm employing,
My voice subject to cracking,
My range just isn't tracking!
"Joyful noise" a misnomer,
Unsettled noise of a roamer,
Turn down my volume a lot!
My contribution is naught.
Maybe no one noticed me...
I'd like to duck out quickly,
But onward with the rejoicing,
But now I'm not really voicing.
Self-consciousness takes over,
What I need is a voice-over.
Or, maybe that built-in playback?
Yeah, that inaudible soundtrack!
Playing flawless in my head,
The singing is Spirit-led.
I can hit any and all notes,
And match any and all throats!
Bocelli? Chuck Berry? Sure!
Such rejoicing I can endure.
I'll just move my silent lips,
And Voila! A playback eclipse!
"Lord, I hope you're OK with that?
My singing keeps falling flat!
The Spirit can sing with the best,
Through playback, my spirit finds rest!"
Reason rests upon faith
I am not into fideism
I'm not a fan of the Enlightenment
Or a Cartesian prison
Mr. Naturalist if you please
Show me where laws grow on trees
Or where numbers hide
And propositions are seen
So you believe what you see
Has anyone ever seen
An abstract entity?
Unbelieving scientists
Obscure and fudge the truth
All the theories they've put forth
Drowned in primordial soup
Liberals say anything goes
Then attempt to condemn a belief
That's as silly as a kleptomaniac
Claiming not to be a thief
Existentialism
Seems appealing
Equate God's thoughts
It has no meaning
Thinking God's thoughts
After Him we are commanded
In chance and luck you'll be stuck
Leaving you intellectually stranded
So how do we account for counting?
Is it antecedent steps of doubt?
When we experience epistemological self-consciousness
We can ask "Who let the dogmas out?"
Relationships with doctors
Can be awkward, even though
You discuss the same old problems
Every time that you may go.
Yet if you have a physician
You have seen for many years,
All self-consciousness and tension
Somehow quickly disappears.
He’ll remember all your symptoms –
Be they serious or not –
And will take his time explaining
What you have or haven’t got.
There might even be some jokes about
Appointments in the past
And you realize that you’re lucky,
For such bonds so rarely last.
As my other docs retired
Or switched practices on me,
I feel grateful I’m connected, still,
To my same old G.P.*
*General Practitioner
Hilda is the opposite of shy; she is not hiding in any way.
She flaunts her stuff without any self-consciousness.
She knows she looks dandy and prefers skimpy clothes.
Other farmers' wives adore her, they do not care.
She can walk down the train track with barely a stitch on.
No one makes fun of her, because it is Hilda and she is special.
She is friends with everyone and builds people up, in a genuine way
They gravitate toward her like puppies, wagging their tails.
I used to think I wasn't equipped to handle heartbreak,
But it seems like that's the only thing I'm good for as of late.
I'm not sure what changed or when all my walls came crashing down,
Leaving my heart vulnerable to my intrusive thoughts as they go round for round.
Forget a suit, have the blacksmith forge a heart of armor,
As I wait to see who delivers the final blow, causing their opponent to falter.
Calculated risks becoming flawless counters to gut feelings wrapped in luck,
A deranged game of chess, my thoughts the knight, my heart the hopeless rook.
A lose-lose situation defined by mental illnesses and past traumas that go hand in hand,
My head is filled with mixed thoughts and my heart with intrusive emotions that rendered me unable to take a stand.
Bed ridden by my self consciousness and lack of self esteem,
I utilize my resources and create worlds through my words that I know no one will read.
"Healthy" coping mechanisms are nothing but a glorified suggestion,
So I will continue to use metaphors and similes to help me handle my depression
Wisdom, like the endosperm of a coconut, evolved,
Jordan developed in his self-consciousness day by day;
Though vices around virtues, like the galaxy, revolved,
He, like the Magi, keenly discerned and chose the right way.
Boyishness, as the rind of an orange or plum got peeled,
Fruitfulness in him, like wheat grain formation, peeped its head;
How lovely our once naughty Jordan's true self got revealed!
All those unchurched unaware identities he had shed...!
His son grew up like a pearl in a progressing oyster,
Scholastically and leisurely he's trained without fail;
He gives him freedom too; he's not a monk in a cloister;
Though naughty like his father, he grows up hearty and hale...!
The storm that blows violently can change into a breeze,
Who says a beast running about can never be at ease...?
18 June 2023
Whatever happened to "Jordan" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Miranda Hawley
the awakening again night sweats wet sheet
a cold damp room filled with gloom screams
wails sighs distant cries the war on the mind
has began all over again passing through
enemy territory life exploding like bombs
quieting thought mere panic send familiar
waves throughout your body gun shots loudly
rang out the soft beating drum of your own
infant heart beat takes over wires surround
your womb deep inside hostage situations
the calmness gathered beneath drenched
covers from the trenches of a mental break
beating down your self consciousness while
fight flight abruptly arrive to rescue you the
sinking helpless feeling of darkness overwhelms
you while you recite i matter an yet the enemy
is invisible taunting teasing tampering with your
inner most peace ripping brain matter tasting
blood of traumatic events severe violent hardship
your body trembles your mind captured you quietly
lay there helpless asking where is chaplin where is
red cross you are alone within your own rapture
heart pounding pill box fall to the floor mental
health treatment on the other side of the door
I have been there, and seen her
The darkest parts of myself which hide in the caves of my soul
I have been elsewhere, and seen her too
The most joyous thought covered in dreams and filled with hope
I have been everywhere, and seen her
The deepest darkest yearnings of my heart
I have seen all of her, yet I am lost to her
The viscous gnashing of self consciousness
I have seen all of her, yet I am confused by her
The over gracious application of mercy
I have seen all of her, and I know her
The heart that overflows with empathy
I have seen her
I know her
I am her
15 lines of poetry
1/6/2023
Contest: ‘2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 24’
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Song imprisoned
Lone musician
engrossed to play violin.
Resonance ripples
on prelude to interlude.
sinking in self consciousness.
Self-oriented!
Releasing emotive urge
in joy and sorrow.
None to share, none to listen.
Rhythm of tune to glisten.
An enlightenment:
An ethereal ecstasy:
Self satisfaction.
Alone artist enjoying
mystic morose melody.
Lone bird imprisoned
in cage stoops being drowsy.
silent, no whistling.
It has forgotten to sing,
dreams of open sky in vain.
10/27/22
Image no. 3 word count < 165
Painting Prompted
Contest by Lisa YY
Picture day a day that I from self consciousness detested
add to my gap toothed grin wild eyed and unrested
In first grade sitting next to a handsome young man in a suit
Bouncing along on the bus ride motion sick to boot
The stress of the day tipping the scales on me
and his closest pant leg
Humiliated my sister rushed up his pardon to please
Kindly beg
He put his arm around my heaving shoulders
And said
You couldn't help it honey,and against him lay my head
Home permed ,disgruntled ,with stain
on my dress
This young man's kindness I can attest
Went well above and beyond as did my breakfast
Vanity and desire innately compulsive
distort the ethos of obdurate ego,
conditioning the vision to look at others,
for self-consciousness turns opaque layer.
Divine intervention in life reborn,
shreds the strata of opacity,
plain self-image escapes egocentricity,
gets transfixed within empathy frame.
In the hued horizon of the new life
the nascent sun of adoration rises,
paints all the pining hearts
with the perceptive colors of love.
_______________
July 10, 2022
Contest : Ego Shorn, Here Now Reborn
Sponsored by : Unseeking Seeker
The flow of the river gives a sound.
The tone of the sound
Is little sweet or noisy.
The song of the Cuckoo gives a sign.
The hope is still alive.
We must not get crazy.
The Sunny sky over the head.
It give us strength and inner peace.
We will not be faded away.
The gossiping among friends gives a sign of love is into Us.
The quality made from support each other.
We will not be broken anyway.
Our life partners will always be with us.
They are half soul of our body.
Together we will overcome every sorrows.
Our parents are always be our well wishers.
They can be selfish for our safety.
spent time with them so they do not feel lonely.
Our teacher's are our true path finder or Guru's.
So respect them and love them.
They made your virtue and erased your bad habits.
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