In case we die / part II

"Whatever comes through the door...  see it face to face."  



I am stroking the walls.
 Paint is coming off my brush and leaving a dark gray trail across the pale yellow that it is viciously replacing. 
I pause...  and a huge grin crosses my face..    this is it.   THIS IS IT!

I am 12 ft up..  high on the scent of Iron Mountain paint..   and high on the feeling of being intimately driven into the heart and bones of the moment.  

In case we die.   I rather be HERE.
and
In case we die.  
I rather be pouring my essence / my goodness / my muchness into my actions.
  every action deserves that doesn't it?
WHY NOT?   

This is the secret of life,  and I kid you not you better listen closely because it all starts and ends in this very simple yet magnificent answer: 

"that we are as perfect and as wonderful, and as powerful, and as worthy, and just, as the moment we are a part of."    This moment is everything.    And it all sits and waits for us, welcoming our kindness, or our godliness, or our apathy..
 and whatever we make out of it...
OF THIS MOMENT..   is what we become.   

I stand 12 ft up..   with a brush in my hand, and gray paint splattering my body, 
and
There is NOTHING past painting this house.   And there is NOTHING better than painting this house.  
And when you realize this... and FEEL THIS,   then you believe in it..    and every brush stroke isn't a brush stroke to get anywhere,  or to move beyond THIS,   it is rather just another sacred moment in the experience of THIS. 

WE speak of godliness.   We speak of greatness.   
Here is what I say: 

Whatever comes through the door...  see it face to face..  
 .welcome it, know it,  kiss it,  fuck it, taste it, challenge it, hold it, set it free, learn it, become it, wonder about it, press into it, scream about it,
love it. 




Andrew Tipton

In Case We Die

Andrew Tipton

Undiminished Muchness

Speaking with the brotherhood this evening.. Trent, and Ryan.   The September atmosphere is pushing us deeper into masculine conversation;  The essence of purpose, the vastness of the female mind, our acknowledgement of our intentions..etc.    On our table are two glasses of whiskey,  a journal, yerba mate, and a cup of vino.  Trent is rolling a cigarette.   Ryan is leaning back in his chair, cap backwards, his bicep tattoo, "tocar la tierra", gleaming in the porch light.     I am sitting between them, admiring the clarity and the ferocious goodness worn on the shoulders of these men.   I consider myself fortunate to be in strong company. 

These are peaceful warriors.   Seeking out their undiminished muchness.   Seeking out their own paths and their own agreements with the world they live in.  
[There is not a higher calling for a man than to seek out his own god-ness...  to wrestle and converse with his inner self until he is exhausted... and perfected.]  
Friends who want greatness for their world,  ultimately want greatness for you,  and I am aware of this distinctly tonight..

We are all feeling very MUCH. As MUCH as we decide we want to. 
And there is never the feeling that we should slow down, or keep it concealed, or the slightest
embarrassment about it.   We speak boldly and with conviction.  
That is the way to be.  



Andrew Tipton


    

 

Intention

 

I claim strength
and optimism. I claim the love that is all around me
growing things,
changing the seasons,
directing the paths of men,
and friendship.
I claim the wisdom
that built me,
I claim the happiness
that makes children laugh,
I claim peace
and calmness.
I claim the prosperity
towards my actions
and my intention.
I claim my joy
in the beauty of the sky,
and of feathers,
and common things.  




Andrew Tipton

The Path of Reconciliation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Andrew Tipton

 

 

 

Learning The Conversations Of Darkness

Andrew Tipton

Spitting Magic

The sun has just hidden itself behind layers of thick, swelling clouds..  there is a noticeable yellow blur as the sky dims and becomes an opaque, rusty version of its afternoon brightness.   It is high-tide, and the waves are biting at the shoreline.  
My body is wet and panting..    I have the feeling of supreme essentialness and near clairvoyance.   I am sprawled out in a chair, gazing into a pristine, blue-tiled swimming pool - feeling refreshed from swimming laps.
 But not here...  in the ocean.  
And not really laps... but more like fierce strokes of aggression in one direction until I am exhausted by the swell of the waves.  
And then repeating.  
Back and forth..  overtly directionless, pawing the turquoise and kicking up sparks of aquatic smoothness.   
    
I have so much energy here its ridiculous.   Brimming on every level with enthusiasm and subdued machismo... flowing into a state of obscene clarity.   I am fortunate to have the jungle in every direction so that my possibilities are continually narrowed.

I am sitting cross-legged, post-ocean-swim, holding a tattered copy of Carlos Castenada's "Tales of Power".   This moment is perfect and supremely ironic.
I am in a conversation with a priestess...  a female sorcerer.   She is in all ways effortlessly feminine and articulately cool..  like a stone sculpture, carved by philosopher hands.
   I expect her to be in her 40's - she is tall, her long hair tossed around her shoulders, her bare skin still magnificently vibrant.   I can feel intensity stirring inside of her.  I can feel it literally coming out of her stormy eyes and passing between her nostrils as she exhales.  

We are spitting magic..
 the two of us side by side, conjuring the splendor of each other's minds.. discussing the fundamentals of sorcery, and the birthplace of rituals. 
  Both within ourselves,
 and elsewhere...  





Andrew Tipton