A RAINBOW REALM

On Saturday, May 16, 2015, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

Planet’s presently plopping like a pan of porridge at its peak, and who in the right hemisphere of their brain would blame her?

Forty volcanoes around the globe erupting in unison, thirty-four of them around the Pacific (a word meaning ‘peaceful’) Rim. Not called ‘the ring of fire’ for nothing.

With the Hawaiian Islands dotted in the centre, Kilauea Peak exploding forth in fire, molten lava lake levels loom larger, licking and lapping the crater’s rim.

Leaden lava flows forge through fertile forest, mowing down tall scorched conifers, turning charred timber to solidified hot grey cinder cement, undersea eruptions offshore Oregon.

Whole islands rise from the deep, some submerge. Intercontinental shakes and quakes, a tinkering and tampering with postulated particles, headlong and heedless of lessons of Atlantis.

To puncture the living fabric at vast expense, devoid of concern, even of sanity and sacred common sense or a time window wide enough for wisdom.

Hole-ism fanatic and extreme, pushing beyond limits, diabolical, deceitful, desperate as a trapped rat and, ‘only seeking but a minutest postulated particle of god.’ Really?! By looking through the wrong end of a telescope?

Being of course, in stark cold contrast, merely the tip of a metaphorical iceberg, and a cool sobering stern-face reminder to ‘chill out’. Enquire within. Just be humbly thankful for what is.

Just as Hawai’i could well be the tip of Lemuria rising, and who do you think will try to lay claim to that? A tectonic proverbial plate we will have to step up to. Relinquishing being a fan of oil-fed flames and all forms of explosion forever.

Thereby too the ‘natural or manmade disaster dichotomy’ and even the doctrinal primordial ‘big bang’ mantra. We do not consent to explosions.

Retrospectively, receptive of echoes out of the blue silence of May, almost a year ago to the day. Solitary experimental photo-shoot meditation, creative spring- time celebration invocation, A GLOBAL SPRING, (see archives, May 2014.)

Receiving seasonal echoes out of the blue as promptings. Equipped only with aspiration to evolutionary potential of intuitive aesthetic refinement and a blank slate. To dive deeper into those rainbow energy fields, so did just that.

Worship of explosions being the old model we will have to let go of as unresolved childhood trauma temper tantrums posing as power. All they left us with is a lot of holes, in the ground, in communities of families, individual lives and souls.

Whoreship itself, being a dualistic subservience promoting hierarchy, obviously, if you stand-under. Masochistic self-putdown, false humility.

Alternatively, energy fields is a better metaphor. They are demonstrably omnipresent and experiential. That way, you are not an anomaly among anomalies standing out in the field. Devoid of self-worth, doomed to disintegrate in a never present future.

Not a thing among things, separated by nothingness, which is just non-sense. As if something and nothing could exist independently. When you return to your senses that’s self-evident anyway.

This way, we don’t end up with a load of holes, or even obsession with controls, as when all is seen as separate and therefore other. As energy fields, we don’t end up.

Being already one-with the whole. If you were not, you wouldn’t last more than a few seconds, neither would anything ‘else.’

Energy fields can be and are photographed by the way. In particular by a very unassuming man called Harry Oldfield. You’ll find him easily on the internet.

While, i’m focussed on the aesthetics of everything, by natural preference. The rainbow spectrum an iconic overarching palette pertaining to and reigning over lush living diversity within the visible field of light.

Even though a finer frequency than interacts within the optical eye pervades and bathes everything and we are one with all as that.

The spectrum as a whole is most likely infinite beyond present perception. I like to express with what’s at hand. Imagine being bathed within these flowing fields and folds of benevolent colour frequencies of feeling as being our birth right in these realms. Rainbow fields forever. ~

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Martin Rainbowmaker

A LOVE OF LEAVES

On Saturday, April 25, 2015, Martin Law <martin.rainbowmaker@gmail.com> wrote:

If you don’t love leaves, then love, leaves.

~ ~ ~

What i mean to say is, without leaves we are lost. Absent without leaves. Leaves love life, and feed us through the sun, lavishing in abundance gifts of food and oxygen.

Lacking love of leaves we languish, backs turned on a convenient backdrop of out of focus foliage, forgetful of photosynthesis. Focus on a photo shoot, to frame faces full of faked frivolity. Forgetting, fruits, flowers, and faces are also absent without leaves.

Freeze frame photographic physiognomy apart, anyone may well wonder as to what exact unequivocal elucidation such obliquely slantwise allusive alliteration may be leaning or leading towards, being, as it is, apparently so literally elusive to legible literacy.

Ah, there’s the rub, with or without an eraser and despite irrevocable rewrite. Never mind what webs we weave, following a tenuous thread out on a limb, and just about to spit out subtle insight on the tip of the tongue when the bubble pops, blown away, irretrievable as a dandelion clock, as often is the way, with what would have been a worthwhile word to say. 

 

Save to say, beyond service to self, it serves well to ‘spell out’ the societal significance stemming from a love of leaves. Put plainly, the paradigm pertains to peoples’ priorities.

Are you bored yet? Or just skipping over stepping stones unmindful of the depth that forever flows in midstream? In abandoning shady banks, investing in the natural world order is a better bet for sure.

Thankfully, ‘money doesn’t grow on trees,’ or the world would be even more of a mayhem of mad axe men. However here’s a hint, ‘look after the leaves and the fruits will follow by themselves.’ To tell the truth it’s much bigger than that. The nature of abundance has a tendency to be huge, wanting only in interest and collective imagination.

True progress will be when we remember how to feed ourselves, free of regulators and middle-men, the politics of the poison pen, and but for them the earth would return to her natural bounty, stemming from our love of leaves, superseding and supplanting our need for greed, growing green without envy.

To imagine, is to make magic manifest. Growing from its fertile soil, imagination without limitation, and food grows by itself without technology. Dream large and in abundance naturally. A viable human future will be, not power plants and technology, but plant powers gently tended and free. Therefore without illusion of ownership, limitation, coercion, not to mention industry.

It’s easy to imagine what we wish to see, to cultivate what comes and grows naturally. A wild garden world without artifice of intrusive technology, earthfelt imagination flowing free, a haven on earth where it’s meant to be.

Meanwhile, inwardly forming these and similar paragraphs in mind, i go into the garden. Respectfully selecting a few cabbage leaves, illumined green-gold by evening sun, and leisurely take a string of photos of them too.

On checking back to see the latest shot, the camera freezes, jammed and refusing to function, recharge, or even switch off. The third one to need replacement in the same number of years or less.

Well, if such is the power of thought and mind to so interact electrically, with inorganic technology, and who can say it could not be? Then imagine what powers of manifestation are collectively held in every nation. Despite the drive to mind control with thorny briars to bind the soul, all cease to grip when we are whole.

Though we’re not likely to forget, where you focus is what you get. ~

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Martin Rainbowmaker.