Blog Festival | Tri-Polar Homeostasis | by Scott Thomas Outlar

All rolled into one, the paradigms of yesterday become the evolved fresh perspective of a new present moment awareness. A cascading vision of truth shimmering upon the lake’s surface as the pristine water of the River Tao flows flawlessly along in the gentle current. Ease and precision without a big fuss. Nothing to see in such a sanctified location except perfection. So move along if the only reason you came was to trample upon pearls. But if your third eye is open, and if you are awake and aware, and if you can hear the vibrating hum of Holy Spirit inside your mind, well, then you are more than welcome to stay awhile and bask in the glorious scenery.

It’s a beautiful, picturesque day. It’s a bright sunny image reflected here on Earth from the center of the awesome fireball that floats in the sky 93 million miles away. Primal power seeps outward, oozing photon transfiguration. Solar flare eclipse of the infinite abstraction. The climate changes day to day, of course. Always has, always will. Any fool knows that. Moment to moment, even. Nature abhors a vacuum and will constantly recalibrate itself in order to balance out and remain in a rhythmic state of cohesive alignment. If crazy human lizard people spray the skies with heavy metals, Mother Nature will figure out a way to even the score. If greed head warmongers dump poison into the ocean, the whales might mutate, adapt, and start having to kick some ass here on the surface. If nuclear power plants (built by terrible fools directly atop massive fault lines) begin to burn, melt, and drain their radioactive waste, unspeakably bad things are sure to result. There are consequences to these reprehensible actions. There is such a thing as Karma. If you don’t think you’re going to get yours, you are sorely mistaken. It’s coming around again. It’s cycling through the system. The scales always find equilibrium. Count on that, Jack. Place that bet, for sure. Put the house down on it. Go buy the farm. Go raise the dead. Go plant some corn. Go destroy some GMO seeds. Go forth and be merry.

Some wild shit is going down on this planet. It’s a strange day and age in which to live. Both frightening and exciting. It all depends on how you choose to look at it, I suppose. Perspective tells the story. That’s usually the case. Are you washed up and dried out in the gutter? Or are you staring serenely up into the skyline at nighttime starlight? Maybe you’re doing both simultaneously. Maybe you’ve got a little bit of that tri-polar, junkie high type of mentality swirling around in your psyche. Join the club. I’ve dealt with such an extreme energy confluence for years. My consciousness careens back and forth between extreme vortexes. It’s all just a game, anyway. So have some fun. Get the most out of it. Squeeze every ounce of juice from the fruit that falls from the tree. Split the atom of dualistic knowledge. Discern the truth between Good and Evil. Then move beyond such concepts. Pluck the apple while it’s ripe. In bloom. Bursting with live, electrically charged, raw, buzzing transmissions. Pick up the signal and tap into the source.

This is the work of yeoman. This is the one true center of the holy path. This is the zero-point nexus. This is the final word during the last day at the end of time when space implosively collapses and evolution takes a dirt nap in the deep sea of the dark void. This is paradise reborn. This is heaven on earth coming to fruition. This is a whisper from the still, silent voice within. This is a distraction of mega epic proportions. This is virulent disease plastered to the cell wall. This is homeostasis regained as the antidote commences its journey in aid of the immune system. This is a cycle of life and death. This is a code word for a bailout. This is a sugar high rush up the mountain. This is where I dive back down into the abyss, laughing all the way to the bottom as the air rips and roars in my ears. This is where I go splat. This is where I stand back up, remade in a tougher skin, and dance upon graves dug far too early.

All the miracles in the world couldn’t save a fish that has flopped out of the water. There are Natural Laws, after all. Learn them. Love them. Apply them. Flow with them. Become them. Be one with them.

Be that as it may, it’s still fun to go against the grain. And chop down all the wheat. And separate it from the chaff. And suck down all the nutrients. And leave behind the waste. And migrate to a new location. And start all over again. And build a better civilization. And reign forever as a tribal people. And don the crowned jewel of eternity.

Scott Thomas Outlar hosts the site where links to his published poetry, fiction, essays, interviews, books, and reviews can be found. His latest collections in 2016 include: Chaos Songs (Weasel Press) and Happy Hour Hallelujah (CTU Publishing). Scott is a member of The Southern Collective Experience; he also serves as an editor for The Blue Mountain Review, Walking Is Still Honest Press, Novelmasters, and The Peregrine Muse.

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