A Random Act of Unconditional Compassion

The giving of something from somewhere close to home, passing on the reminder that we are not here alone. A note left on the side of a window opening up to the opportunity of being heard. Listening to what we are going through, actively witnessing the nicest thing we can do. Meeting others all the way, knowing true kindness can only come in full, to be kindred and familiar with an extension of comforts in the company of a perfect stranger. Free of judgments, free of preconceived notions, free of expectations, free of disappointments, free of disjointed stories lacking continuity, free of a need to persuade each other any further than the messages we have sent.

Readily becoming the one thing neither of us planned on, something that just kind of happened along the way. Like a door that was once held open a little bit longer than before, belonging to an elevator, or a train, or a bus... one that we needed to catch.

At first, it seemed as though we would pass by separately, but suddenly in a quick unexpected reach of these arms between us, an earthly turn of events allowed us to receive this moment together. A moment we just barely made possible. A beauty we shared transforming this mundane obstacle into an unexplainable feeling of achievement worth celebrating with hugs, high-fives, handshakes, or at the very least a head nod.

Like a sad little trash can left out curbside, innocently wisped away by the wind into a precarious position bent over the shoulder of a wide downhill turn. The road spelled out certain chaos and only a complete act of kindness could restore a peaceful order before worse things happened to this vacant circular asset in our grand production's planned disposal end for the current gross domestic consumption cycle. Bravely walked back safely to the very place of its most fit space, to serve the greatest purpose of its highest design. The trash can, can not thank you enough, and so it won't. Neither will the neighbors who haven't gotten home on time to notice what peril their trash can had been in, though kindly will they wonder in gratitude as to how it may have ended up back closer to where it was needed most next.

A Haiku written on an empty roll of toilet paper, carefully placed in local restaurants all across the county. one side says: All out of T.P, ...Pray for better laborers... where is your god now? Another says: Recipe for war... deciding ownership's poor... structure with no core... which then goes on to say: Open up the door... nowhere we have been before... find out what's in store... A few more go on to say: Mass education... Inspired explanations... alter the outcomes... it continues on: Dream of blissful truth... draw eclipsed inner standings... accept expansions... the references are endless... there is no telling... limitlessly beginning... changing with each spin... seeing all seasons, recurring again at once, meanings share reasons... word salad dressing, layered between sandwiches, the meat earns it's bread... Told how we should choose, lend us our daily news, headlines for the blind... We're desensitized, let our senses be flooded, wise enough to know... there's a difference...

A prose written in a message, sent like a letter, opened over a digitally defined designation of light coming from a hand held rectangle reflecting on the daily subject matter of our everyday psychopathologies, it opens up with this echo: "hundreds of thousands of millions of harmonious deeds" and goes on to discuss: Musical mimosa-making duos...

acting like a couple of companions standing at the edge of a greater than good canyon...

With Grand fortunes at hand,

granted to those who understand,

time, is just a mess of sand...

Measured like hormones,

released from one's glands...

Swung into a mixture of sensational pleasures,

remembering what it means to treasure...

our every waking moment together...

Being Honest with ourselves...

Humbly requesting help...

reaching, for higher shelves...

Becoming better teachers of peace

in the art of releasing ourselves

from that which we, do not need...

Observing

the polite greetings

bundled up

in every little seed...

Deserving

the organic food...

with fresh air...

and clean water

by every natural decree...

Overcoming the illusions of scarcity caused by organized greed...

...Willing to do, whatever it takes, to be freed...

"Hundreds of thousands of millions of harmonious deeds"

A limb extended out to listen in, offering to take a bit of the weight from your world onto its own. Setting fire to the cold wet damp logs of our ancestors, lain out like merry little timbers, turned to embers, by the desires of the members of this order who wished to remember the place of their ancient senders so they could be better tenders, tending to the services of love reflecting over the purposes, that have been left, right under the path of rediscovery. Ascending with wishes now passed on above, respecting the self-worth and hard work required of us to fully commit to this process of self-recovery. Given an answer to the last question that's been casually chased after. Noticing, the reward is the gift of giving, even yet still, more joy and laughter!

A piece of toast buttered to one's likings, crisped with its second forging towards perfection from one heating element to yet another, forever seeking it's completion with some digestive system. Finally achieving the greatest of all kind deeds, to be received, in full connection, with respect and dignity unified by a common intention set on improving the movements of our highest message, delivered to us by our closest and most sincere spirit. The spirit of this team, with the strength of this love, at the speed of this light, sharing the confidence of this courage, in the wisdom of this experience, and beyond all else, the support of this comfort.

The extension of self, in a tall glass for all else, made easy by the simplified view outside the complications that had once grew. Observing now, the beautiful mystery of privately detecting some personal entropy that has been manifesting universal alterations exaggerating the variables seeking changes suited to transform various parallel obstacles. Carefully revealing the disciplines behind self-deception and self-betrayal as merely just the start to the threads unraveling the sweaters of tradition that have been wrapped around our oldest ruins which still await a harmoniously enthused renewal.

This is an invitation to the reunion...

Sincerely, the you, in that which has been left, right on...