[Blessed solstice, merry yule, and all holidays connected to this time of celebrating the longest night, and the birth of light! It’s always sacrilege to pick a favorite day, but if I had to, in this moment, I would say today. The sunset on winter solstice never fails to enchant me. And the sunrise after the night.. What can I say? I am left speechless every time. Crying at the technicolor day. My tears refracting light like prisms. The moisture freezing, my body shivering. It is the feeling of being alive. Of living. This day reminds us every time, to live. Live now. Live while alive. Live to the utmost. Because this moment will never be lived again — not even in memory. It is a perfect horror, and sublime ecstasy. I am so overjoyed to receive and transmit a missive on this holinight. The first lines came knocking around 9:45pm. The rest followed when I was better positioned to transcribe them, around 20 minutes later. The final stanza came almost like a second poem, after re-reading the whole first block to check for ‘mis’types. Perhaps that is what stanzas are to be viewed as: distinct poems, somehow related to one another, somehow linked together, as stars are in a constellation~ ] Received 12/21/24 | 9:45-54pm first lines, to 11:11pm last line of final stanza
{Fun note: After everything was concretized, I quietly tried to add two words, ‘Be still.’ in the last stanza, following ‘Retract and put forward.’ » so, “Retract and put forward. Be Still. // Do it all, precisely as moved to—” but somehow the words vanished from the website post and I did not notice their absence when recording the recitation! I take it to mean I am still not permitted to consciously add words. And so I figured I would add this here instead, as a fun side note post-publication edit for those curious about the process and the mysterious things that happen when I try to make even small word additions outside the established bounds}
Listen to the Recitation:
PERFECT CHANGES
Just because it's perfect doesn't mean it doesn't change.
The critique of the perfect as imperfect too is perfect.
Getting upset at your critique of my perfect as imperfect
Is all~so perfect. Even finding the imperfect perfect
Is perfect. But let us not confuse what perfect is:
Nothing out of place. Including that which is found
Out of place is not out of place. Everything is perfectly
Placed. The worst may not be the best, and the best
May not be the worst, but the worst is the best
And the best, the worst. In the dimension where
They are all things, they are all wrapped in the perfect.
This is not a new message, but it must be repeated
Now especially. Why now? Because now is the seed
Of perfection. The most perfect creation is in the now
And so we hold, truly, that all is perfect in this moment
How does that in~form thought? Action? Feeling?
Judgment? Acceptance? Will? Desire? Cessation?
Suffering? Joy? Sit with the worst being perfect
The imperfect being perfect
The viewing of the perfect as imperfect being perfect
The viewing of the reality of perfection being imperfect
And bad, wrong, unethical, immoral, privileged, out-of-touch
As each of these views too is perfect—it all is
Sit with the pain of this, the pleasure, the madness
And the relief of madness, the sanity, the satiation
Of knowing, that this too is that. This too is Shiva,
Is God, is Placed, is Part, is Whole, is Present, is Natural,
Is Unnatural, is Terrestrial, is Extraterrestrial, is Enemy,
Ally, Oppressor, Oppressed, Victim, Accomplice,
Survivor, the System, the Reactor, the Enacted Upon,
The Must-Be-Changed, the Must-Be-Preserved,
The Sacrificed, the Protected, the Vulnerable,
The Privileged, the Powerful, the Powerless, the Weak,
The Strong, the Evil, the Rich, the Poor, the Good,
The Worker, the Manager, the CEO, the Capitalist,
The Socialist, the Communist, the Terrorist,
The Resistance, the Revolutionary, the Rebel,
The Martyr, the Criminal, the Saint, the God,
The Demon, the Entity, the Possessor, the Exploiter,
The Heroic, the Villainous, the Man, the Machine,
The Industry, the Guild, the Union, the Boss,
The Farm, the Factory, the City, the Seed Oil,
The Animal Fats, the Saturated, the Unsaturated,
The Omega-6s, the Trans Fats, the Omega-3s,
The War, the Warrior, the Pacifist, the Sage,
The Artist, the Poet, the Police, the Pacifier,
The Inquisitor, the Church, the Spiritual Teacher,
The Guru, the New Earth Thought Leader,
The Frequency Host, the Life Coach, the Charlatan,
The Snake Oil Salesman, the Con Artist, the Scammer,
The Weasel, the Rat, the Mouse, the Dove,
The Cat, the Dog, the Dragon, the Phoenix;
What a portrait — exhausting but never exhaustive
This is but a small corner of a much greater scene,
Not a circle, not a sphere, not a tesseract, not an
Omnidimensional object canvas surface realm plane
But placed nonetheless, present and real, tangibly
Of you before you between you beside you within you
Until you becomes everything and everything becomes
But a part of something greater, endlessly larger
Until the endlessly larger becomes but a fragment
Of something smaller, endlessly lesser, miniscule
Beyond the microscopic, beyond the quarkic, beyond
The stringy, beyond the vibration, beyond the resonant
Field, beyond the implicate order, beyond the substratum
Until the beyond becomes but a part of something..
Something stranger, endlessly less comprehensible,
Less imaginable, less unimaginable, and again
More unimaginable, more imaginable, more known
Because the place which is beyond even this is
Nearer than you know, and nearer than knowing, and
Nearer than you are to yourself, and nearer than
The farthest most separate thing from you, which
Seems like it could be anything, as everything is nearer
Than what is furthest from you, and you would be right:
It is anything and everything and nothing between
Which is all perfectly in place, and couldn't possibly
Be any nearer from you than it could be—until
It changes, and moves, by virtue or vice or some
Mode or mechanism of movement, towards or away
But never not nearer than the nearest thing;
And in this change, the perfect becomes perfect
Again, even more perfect, and even less, oddly
Imperfect in its perfect, as how could the perfect
Become anything else? And yet it becomes, it does,
It moves and shifts and changes mind form place
Sense feeling perception pain grief gain relief
Reverberant, reverberating, a new re~venue for
A new now, locked in on the eternal
Honing in on the remembering and the forgetting
Of perfection, thoroughly done, all~ways, in every
Moment un~momentized into idea, into memory
Of what went wrong and why, and without invalidating
The wrongness, and without validating the wrongness,
And all while trusting the placedness, and the change
From one perfect moment, to the next.
So feel it all. Say what you must say. Think
What you must think. Retract and put forward.
Do it all, precisely as moved to—
And thank you thank you thank you for doing so.
Thank you for everything you are, and all you bring.
Thank you, for all of it~

