Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley door pickup 10am - 7pm 3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611

  • Open Daily: 10am - 10pm
    Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm

    3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
    612-822-4611

Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm
3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611
Liquid Eyes

Liquid Eyes

Neithercut, Nancy

Paperback

General Fiction

ISBN10: 1726600955
ISBN13: 9781726600958
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: Oct 9 2018
Pages: 188
Weight: 0.74
Height: 0.40 Width: 7.00 Depth: 10.00
Language: English
I can only try to express what it's like after this profound shift in perspective, knowing that this is the dream as well. Knowing that it can't be shared or kissed with words, and that there is no one with whom to share. But we can sit together on this bench under the tall Pines on the edge of the cliffs of this shore-less ocean, and gaze out together at the featureless sea, and marvel at the imaginary line where the sky kisses its reflection in blue. We can share the amazement and the unbearable unspeakable beauty of life just as it is. The stunning magical and mysterious nature of life living itself, touching itself, kissing itself through us..... We can feel the breath of sunset as it whispers in our delicate tender hearts. And marvel that we can see our own reflections in each other's beautiful beautiful eyes.... Songs flow like the wind creating light and shadow, and the river of our hearts swells and soars touching all and everything with a love that cannot be caught.... The longing to sing of this unbearable beauty, knowing it cannot be held or given away.... To kiss what cannot be kissed... paints my imaginary lines in sky.... As flowing light and wind and color slide through me as me.... Shine and shadow merge into a river of song, and Oh! How can I fold this wonder into a bird and send it to you? How can I hold my beating heart as it flies into a million pieces of emptiness? How can I show you your infinite intimate emptiness and your beautiful breathtaking fullness? How can I show you that this precious life is not even yours? How can I give you a sip of the nectar of this beautiful unknowingness? How can I slide a moonbeam into a bottle and throw your lovelight across the sea of dreams? How can I touch you as you are none other than me, yet a Grand Canyon divides us... This yearning to touch you to sing of this paints this emptiness with a longing that sings me, such ineffable infinite wonder! It is the rhythm of life that we share the heartbeat of existence this wondrous love. I cannot give you anything. I cannot give you nothing. Where would you put it? It feels like a wondrous seamless timeless flow. It was always that way, it was just never noticed. As it is always this way there is nothing that can be done to make it anew. This is a constant streaming insight of the utter perfection of anything that seems to appear. There is no more hope or fear or need of other, better, more, or next. It is the end of all belief in belief. It is the end of all belief in meaning or meaninglessness, of belief in truth or false, purpose or non purpose, freedom or non-freedom, or anyone to be free or bound. It is the complete end of the belief that there is something to attain or someone to attain it. It is life full on unabashedly naked. Feeling everything deeply yet somehow impersonally, like being in a movie, a passion play that writes and erases itself, and watching it at the same time. The utter indescribable beauty of life doing itself. Sparkling aliveness breathes through me as me and my heart weeps at this intimate beauty this infinite spaciousness wrapped embraced in the kiss of wind, the sigh of starlight, the sailing soaring utter nakedness of life un-owned. Awakening is the deepest Intimacy as your own love has ravished you skinned you alive and ripped out your heart your love and your life. All that's left is the dance of one of two of none... streaming moving and standing utterly still without a ground or goal or place to be, singing vibrantly silently a mad passionate dance of you of me of we. It is like love this beautiful homelessness. This feeling of soaring skinless as the wind. But I am not a guru. Nor a teacher. Just a lover of love... Love, Nancy

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