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Excerpt for The Train by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

The Train


by

Gregory


Copyright 2018 by:

Gregory


Published by

Muse & Man Press


Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

* * * * *

Cover and publisher logo designed by

Geoff Morton

 www.geoffmorton.ca



The distant train horn s o u n d s . . . . .


s o u n d s . . . . .

and

s o u n d s . . . . .


across the

vast black desert night;


s o u n d s . . . . .

and

s o u n d s . . . . .


hauntingly marking off dark and empty

back roads,

a grid of potentials and choices

beneath the map-thin skin of this

MATERIAL REALM

of

La Trinité Terrible,

of relentless

Process,

of ineluctable

Necessity,

of intractable

Karma,

that

hitches us to the stone-boat

of

Physical Existence;

that

chains us to the millwheel

of

Physical Survival;

that

fetters us in the courtroom

of

Cosmic Justice;

a truly terrible trinity

that forces

on us

the ineluctable

whip-lashing illusion

of time;

that forces

on us

the need

to get out of bed

every morning and struggle

to stay

hitched to that stone-boat;

the need

to get out of bed

every morning and struggle

to remain

chained to that millwheel;

the need

to get out of bed

every morning and struggle

to linger

fettered in that

courtroom of accountability for our

choices and actions;

the need

to get out of bed

every morning and willingly

bare our backs

to time's whip-lashing illusion;

with this

MATERIAL REALM

ruled by

La Trinité Terrible,

being a

map-thin skin of a reality

always flowing from the

unlimited potential

of a

yet-to-be-chosen,

and

yet-to-be manifested

aspect of

Process,

that we call the

Future,

on through the chaotic nozzle

of the aspect of

Process

we call

this ever-spraying

N O W

with its infinitude

of

life-defining;

of

life-obfuscating;

of

life-enhancing;

of,

life-degrading;

of

life-expanding;

of

life-delimiting;

C H O I C E S,

and into a

spray-pattern of

Process

that we label the

Past,

and which we believe to be

impotent and immutable,

but which most definitely is not,

since everything

about this

MATERIAL REALM

is

Process

and linear time is an illusion,

which makes

our accepted and sacrosanct conceptions

of the

separate and discrete states of

the

future,

the

present,

the

past,

nothing more than

three powerful but illusory aspects

of the

T I M E L E S S U N I T Y,

of the

O C E A N of B E I N G

which

contains

our material world

and generates the

Process

that allows us to live our lives;

contains

it no differently than might a block of amber

contains a microbe;

and

animates

it no differently than does the spring,

a railroad conductor's pocket watch

drive its ever-revolving hands;

and swimming

and cavorting in this

O C E A N of B E I N G,

and oft-times choosing to leap into

Process,

are the eternal dolphins

of our

True Selves, our Spirits,


the insistent train horn s o u n d s . . . . .


s o u n d s . . . . .

and

s o u n d s . . . . .


in order to

elevate and spiritualize the

"naked ape"

of our physical manifestation,

with the

ever-spraying

N O W

facet of

Process,

second-by-second,

choice-by-choice,

action-by-action,

creating the main line of

what we know as

our human life,

a dual affair

comprised of both

Spirit and matter,

and which has

two beginnings:


the insistent train horn s o u n d s . . . . .


s o u n d s . . . . .

and

s o u n d s . . . . .


the first—

our

physical inception

in the

N O W

of

Process,

occurring at the instant

of the

conception of our fetus

in our mother's womb;

and

the second—


the insistent train horn s o u n d s . . . . .


s o u n d s . . . . .

and

s o u n d s . . . . .


our

spiritual inception

at the moment of the

incarnating descent

of our

True Self, our Spirit,,

out of the

O C E A N of B E I N G,

into that

mature fetus

at the traumatic instant

we are forced to leave

the mini-ocean of our mother's

warm, safe womb,

and enter the harsh dominion

of

La Trinité Terrible,


the insistent train horn s o u n d s . . . . .


s o u n d s . . . . .

and

s o u n d s . . . . .


in order

that our newly incarnate

True Self, our Spirit,

might live out and express

Its spiritual potentials

while both

raising and refining

Its own

level of Consciousness,

and

enhancing, elevating, and spiritualizing,

not only the

"naked ape"

of our material body,

and not only the

small, daily life of that

now-Spiritualized

"naked ape,"

but

the daily lives

of all those likewise

Spiritualized

"naked apes"

who come in contact

with us,

most especially during our

True Self's, our Spirit's

first couple of reasonably unfettered years

in

La Trinité Terrible,


the insistent train horn s o u n d s . . . . .


s o u n d s . . . . .

and

s o u n d s . . . . .


before

Its

enthralling

Spiritglow,

before

Its

magical

Soulshine,

begins to be darkened and contained

by our rapidly developing,

and in this modern,

materiality-worshipping culture,

over-stroked

ego,

with the

ever-spraying

N O W

second-by-second,

choice-by-choice,

action-by-action,


the insistent train horn s o u n d s . . . . .


s o u n d s . . . . .

and

s o u n d s . . . . .


creating the twin rails of the

main line of our

human life,

the left-hand one of which is made

of dark, heavy, hard tempered,

bright-polished

steel,

while the right-hand one is

a scintillating strip of

pure and glowing

light,

with that left-hand rail

always spiked tight to the ties

of our days,

while the right-hand one

ever lays on those ties

in a

gentle and unspiked fashion,

with those

the twin rails

representing our two theatres of

life-creating choices—


the insistent train horn s o u n d s . . . . .


s o u n d s . . . . .

and

s o u n d s . . . . .


the hard-spiked

left rail,

being our

oft-times

overly rational,

but

sometimes

overly-emotional and appetite-driven,

and

all-times

self-serving

ego-choices:

choices

of triviality, of folly, and of

the addictive, never-satisfied need

to enhance,

not only our

self-importance,

but

to act out, to express,

our baser natures,

some aspects of which are necessary

for our physical survival,


the insistent train horn s o u n d s . . . . .


s o u n d s . . . . .

and

s o u n d s . . . . .


but most of which

take us beyond a level of

normal survival

and into

the cave-lair of the ever-insatiable

Scyllas

of

corrupting comforts;

of

deluding ego-enhancements;

of

enslaving addictions;

and

though if we manage

to escape

the devouring ravages of

the many sharp-toothed heads

of those insatiable

Scyllas,

few of us ever escape

the powerful, down-sucking and always

corrupting whirlpool

of the

Charybdis

of

TEMPORAL POWER,


the insistent train horn s o u n d s . . . . .


s o u n d s . . . . .

and

s o u n d s . . . . .


and nothing compares with

the supremacy of

TEMPORAL POWER

to

slam-pound-whack

into the hardwood ties

of our existential days,

more extra, and very permanent,

hardened steel spikes

in order to

tighten and snug to them that

left-hand rail

of our ever-unfolding,

existential days,

days dominated and delimited

by

our being hitched to that

stone-boat;

by

our being chained to that

millwheel;

by

our being fettered in that

courtroom

of

La Trinité Terrible!


the insistent train horn s o u n d s . . . . .


s o u n d s . . . . .

and

s o u n d s . . . . .


While that

right-hand rail,

that scintillating strip of

pure, glowing

light,

opens up

bright and expansive realms

of

love, compassion, creativity, enchantment,

and

a very necessary spiritual growth

for the dolphin

of our

True Self, our Spirit,


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