Sinking Feeling

What do you think of my latest?

For this expression I am drawing on a few lessons and ideas presented in this course on consciousness. The idea of consciousness has permeated all of man’s existence since the beginning of recorded time. From the ancient hieroglyphs in Egypt to the philosophers of Greece, the Tibetan monasteries and ancient Mesoamerican cultures, mankind has wondered what part being aware of our 'selves' in the experience of life, seemingly singularly on the planet has played in our existence. The age-old questions of why we are here, why our lives are expressing themselves the way they do, am I something more than the organic body have been asked since written word was recorded and perhaps before. Religious orders, cults, government, and societal movements have been created around these ponderings of mankind. Great arguments have been created and defended based on questions of if our conscious awareness is biologically created or existed before we entered the body and will continue to exist once we leave the mortal toil. It is irrefutable that we as a species have an awareness of our 'Selves' in the world. Aware of our actions, thoughts, words and deeds and their effect on the world around us as seemingly in the world but not of it. There have been countless methods developed to understand this conscious awareness and how to manage life to have a better-quality interaction with the outside world that we are a part of but simultaneously separate from. I have attempted to include some of these tools and ways of understanding this in the following writing. The written word has always been my tool to reflect and process this experience called 'Troy'. I do not so boldly call the following a poem as poetry, to me, is a high art that requires methods I do not possess, however I feel comfortable calling it an artistic expression in written words.

'Here I Sit’ by Troy Cox

To ascend or to descend,

rise or sink.

The method matters not.

The allure is in the dissolution of distraction.

Today, sinking is my comforting.

Close the eyes,

slow the breath,

soften the edges.

Sink within.

Allow the sinking feeling in.

Deep breath.

Down, down, down.

Past the chop of the sea.

Below the waves of distraction.

Down.

A bubble of protection.

I can breathe. 

Just below the surface.

Light changes.

Life mutes, the noise softens.

Float downward.

Below the surface a little deeper.

Sea creatures of stress swim by, curious.

Sinking down.

Heavy, heavy, heavy.

Letting go.

Colors turn from brilliant to soft hues.

Down another degree.

Less distractions.

Rough waves above become a gentle rocking.

The womb of existence is remembered.

My saffron cloak surrounds me like stingray wings.

Sinking deeper like the color of my robe.

Many times, have I been dyed in the color of experience.

Sat in the sun to dry.  

Colors deepened until I no longer remembered my uncolored self.

Coming to rest at the deepest depth.

Calm. 

All lives lessons lost willingly.

All permanent colors of experience wash away.

I dissolve into the silence at the bottom.

Back home.

Empty.

Alone.

Silent.

Self.

I