dr_con Posted July 31, 2014 Share Posted July 31, 2014 Eating Soft Boiled Eggs It’s one of my earliest memories The Latvian Grandparents The special flowered cups being freshly weaned it was too bitter too much like the Womb’s enzymatic corpuscular paradise having begun differentiation waking in fear between snoring elders Not Knowing Not Knowing what lay before me let alone what this was now alone at last but still part of the raging push and pull -- we still feel flowing in the dank darkness after midnights When the Russian Artist asked ‘Do you like your eggs soft boiled’ having just landed on the shores of The Great Work the night before the only appropriate answer was ‘Yes Please’ To be surprised how full of potential how yolk tastes yellow How It Returns How It Returns to Before How Elegua is always an egg with potential and that moment of yielding the fertility of Being and Becoming The End and the Beginning transcending and including at least so I think eating these at the kitchen window standing above the sink trying to come back to remember where I am in the undifferentiated Suchness No Chicken No Egg No Potential No Not Potential No Not Chicken No Not Egg and as my Teacher said ‘Tap gently not for but because nothing else will do and when it cracks, we’ll help clean off the shell’ Tap. Tap. Quote thegateless.org Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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