Marathoners on their last leg, or anyone pushing through walls of self-imposed limitation experience an euphoria, the "runner's high". We live for those ecstatic thrills induced by extreme pleasure, while being absorbed by one or by an orchestral interplay of all five senses, the spirit-mind-body troika intensified.

ENDORPHINATION is so much more
than an organic, neurotransmitter cocktail of stimulated peptide hormones.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

A big lesson is at stake. The dialectic diatribe enacted through many scenes upon a kaleidoscope of stages is not going away anytime soon. We are in the middle of reaching a synthesis. The "quickening" persists on heating things up a bit.

Soul alchemy requires a crucible, as does its counterpart, metallurgy. The shamanic refinery of individuated integration is not for the faint-hearted, nor for those who find heat in the kitchen intolerable. Further, a proper balance and just the right chemistry must be maintained.

Below is a post I made on Thursday 10 January a day before the Anishnabe Prophecy of the 8th Fire was posted on Friday 11 January. It's uncanny the similarity.

And, still, we do have a choice:

"There is a fork in the road. A junction. Which way to turn, which way to go? One option looks familiar, similar terrain previously left behind, yet leading in a steep, downward slope. The alternate route looks less traveled and somewhat elevated.

'I'll take the high road, you'll take the low road.' The same lyrics as before sung from the heart or learned by rote, transposed into either a higher or lower key, which ever feels right in one's respective voice of consciousness.

The low road is along a path shouldered by war, famine and destruction. Face it, no matter how many miles you go hoping to see a change, the scenery remains furrowed, intransigent, devastated. Same old, tired old road-side distractions advertising worn out goods and selling mementos of history repeating cycles, round and round singing passe' playlists.


The high road is a different story altogether, yet to be chronicled. One will not find it measured in kilometers on a map. There is no atlas that plots paved thoroughfares of asphalt. A destination is not arrived at on an ever elusive, evaporating horizon trashed by billboards and road signs. The high road is trail-blazed by an inner fire, a once distant flame, long forgotten, now boldly embodied."


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