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The Forestalled Attainment

The Forestalled Attainment

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Published by Dr. J. Luxum
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Published by: Dr. J. Luxum on Oct 22, 2011
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The forestalled Attainment

Dr. Joseph Luxum

The Forestalled Attainment
What makes the heart beat and ceaselessly pump blood throughout the cardiovascular system bringing warmth to the body? The heart extracts heat from the food we eat. It takes the elements it wants to process and bless the body, which it serves. Yes, the heart serves, it is our servant even a slave, but who is its master that makes it tick? As number two the master is you. As number one it is the One. What you plant in your delicate soul will serve and will lavish abundance of life on you or make you ill with death lurking by to end your sufferings. The despots and thieves that you may have let in will plunder your house and leave you destitute unless you drive them out and make room for the new the old wineskins will burst when the new wine pours in. The prosecutor said, “I will prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that this man killed his own family in a cold blood.” Or. “This cold blooded killer…” What is a cold blood? Cold blood is a dead person’s blood. Yes, it’s frozen, cold and at standstill. It goes nowhere; it brings no warmth anymore and does not make you feel happy. It is strangely still. It became darker, thick and unmovable. The heart stopped its daily operations like a factory with no workers; like a machine without electricity. You keep on pushing the buttons flipping the switches, but it does nothing. No power… A cold-blooded killer is a spiritually dead person deprived of mercy, compassion and love. Why would anyone use this expression? As a foreigner I wonder… What’s a cold blood and why the expression? I guess it has something to do with the opposite, which is a warm blood, warm heart and warm soul. Yeah, I think that’s it, that’s what it means. I ask because I do not know this realm yet well. I am a foreigner, a stranger on this planet; I study the earthlings and their self-destructive behaviors. Why the so-called people love death so much? Why do they cling to it in exchange for matter of many forms, and why do they run after the shiny metal they call gold? They worry about bills and jobs and they do not look on what they walk. When worse comes to worse the earth still produces and sustains the hungry. The forests the pastures and fields; they keep producing and like the heart they pump nutrition, incessantly. At the crossroads at the dusk, where shadows cast their dark silhouettes over the ground there was a lantern from the bygone days flickering with flame borrowed from the gas line. The flame wasn’t much and the light it gave, unlike the modern lights, it was just a dim flickering spark. How quickly we forgot and got used to the now. Yet this lantern still stands there at the crossroads of time, casting light on some while others have taken the cross and changed their course. They tread a shadowless road. Others embraced ignorance for they had turned their backs to that light and blended with the darkened skylines of the twilight and then with the darkness of night. This fading into distance and blending with shadows I mind, notwithstanding the measure of grace man has been lavished upon over the countless days of time. It’s the choice we have make and still keep on making. The horse was brought to the water trough from which it should quench its thirst. But it chose not to and stood there still. The lantern is still there, but not to our satisfaction, we wander and ponder and hope for something better; with our backs turned we stroll away the chosen path from the cross of roads; east, west, north and south. We are still going somewhere treading chosen paths, away from the lantern at the crossroads of time.
Copyright © New Wine publishing LLC New York Page 2

The forestalled Attainment

Dr. Joseph Luxum

What makes the heart beat and propel life? What makes it act the way it does? Why it loves doing what it gladly does bracing with warmth endowing with strength, infusing with muse and telling me, “Go, don’t stop it’s your destination!” But what’s my destination and what’s the goal of being? I made no such objective nor did I make myself. I’m here by grace a steward of goods merely loaned to me. Suspended in time or no time at all, it’s what I understand that makes me thrive, fall back or perish in a slow decay. Yet the choice is mine for so it’s been given to me to understand from the eons of time at that same crossroad of bysome-squandered time. Those merciless echoes of time keep smiting my heart like that of a blacksmith’s mallet falling hard on the anvil. My heart is red and growing hotter with each strike of that smashing rhythmic hammer’s throbs. I hear thumps of joyous eruptions I submit its will to its charge and command. This odd notion of proprietorship calling the ‘me’ as the owner, “fill me,” “give me,” ”lead me” is futile for the “me” is Him. It’s been given to grasp the lack of existence, the “I” and the “me” but rather an extension of eternity. Does the hummer fall on me? Do I cause it or the blacksmith or the potter forming a vessel out of His own clay? Piece of metal or a piece of clay it’s all His yet He calls it the free will when I choose and then submit to those poundings and frequent spins. Can my heart remain as mine? I look up and see the mallet fall; like Abraham’s knife about to slash his son’s tender skin. Here it comes… I cringe, but the mallet’s honey-sweet’s so tender too kind for words. Have I crossed the line? Who’s the “me” the muscle-heart, involuntary incessant pump that thrives within this body of mine? But is this body really mine? Who is the “mine” I speak of here? The “mine” then ceases and its blood goes cold. Gradually the “I” has vanished with sunsets, and blended with darkness, away from that lantern with that flickering light. This grace of Yours does wonders oh Lord. Those tangled wires that tied the knot of the “I” this foolish ego notion lost all power now. The knot is there but the ego’s gone. You have rewired the brain, which never was mine. This understanding loosened the knot; the ego-bird slipped out of the nest made out of wires, cables and twigs. Now it’s soaring on high. The “I” can’t see a thing, but the sublime sees many groping in shadows slaves to the mortal “I.” They do not ask why, blind guides of the blind. “Why have I turned my back to it then and threw myself at the mercy of time? Why did I choose the darkened path and could not return to the cross of time and change my path before it was too late, the pump has stopped and blood turned cold.” The heart keep going it beats and thumps, it’s going slow while other times fast. Its pulse is steady, but sometime wary, what makes it act this way? From time to time there comes the cleanse when blood is soaped and rinsed with force of a mighty waterfall. Ramblings of time you might exclaim, a waste of time not worth of my time away from the box I carved for myself. Those dark cardboard walls I’ve worshiped so long might burn up one day when I am gone. The rhythm I know, familiar surroundings; the people I know; the trees of the park and the daily news I read on my bench as sparrows keep chirping their songs away. Then… No more sparrows, cafés and news. No more cardboard walls and that one shaft of light that came to me through my box’s roof. It’s all gone now. I’m all alone.

Copyright © New Wine publishing LLC New York

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The forestalled Attainment

Dr. Joseph Luxum

What gives you warmth and that thrilling feeling is the life force you’ve taken as a given. For just as it is given it can be withdrawn. The muscle then stops being just a one, its functions then cease and the factory goes still. No stocks to trade and no workers to make let go. The juice has been cut. Switches and levers haplessly swing dancing to their silent tune. But does it have to be so? Is that sad dreary road away from the lantern at the crossroads of time more fun? No imagination, no inspiration, no straightforward thinking no fun with God. Empty words lead to empty spaces. Empty thoughts make your head a drum. Empty hands make you useless and empty hearts make you fruitless. God is life. God is Spirit and Spirit is life. Spirit is power and power is the force that drives the Universe; it makes the planets turn. It is the gravity, magnetic poles and the wall of protection or the atmosphere’s hole. Who controls it all? Rocks float in space, sometime they fall. They release light. Who made them so? The solid matter becomes gas and gas becomes fire and then is no more. Space is a realm where time abides. Time ceases to be when matter stops drifting like driftwood on water. When sun ceases its work, time is no more, inches; feet, yards and miles lose all meaning then. Eternity wields the weapon over by then too-tired time. Like meteors and loose debris floating in space, when time meets infinity it breathes its last. Fire and light release the true power stored and reserved for the ultimate time. When the heart works day and night for the entire span of your life than that heart is like a god to be worshiped and bowed to the ground. But when it falters and pains it is despised, even put down as another organ that can be replaced. Only living man with a real heart can make a machine mimicking the heart. Like the commodities traded on Wall Street blood can be made and hearts replaced. Batteries included they add, which carry composites taken from below the rocky ground and nothing from above. Lithium they call it and they are so proud. Metals are fire. Fire is power. Light is life. But they burn like comets and meteors of all kinds. Put them together and you’ve got power all right; until they perish like all the rest do. The battery goes out and then the pump calls for power. The metals corrode even titanium. When they touch life they must decay just like time will one moment when it meets eternity. Who put fire in metals? Who put life into a rock? Why flowers grow from cooling lava rocks? Why earth turns, and even skips beat when God’s ear receives a desperate cry for help? Joshua cried and time obeyed his cry. The king of Judah cried and shed bitter tears; God changed His mind, stopped the time, healed the king and added to his lifespan another fifteen years. Is calming of storms too hard for us the rulers, subduers and masters of time? Why fear rules our feeble hearts? We have despised the knowledge of power. We’ve split God’s realm into darkness and light. In our thoughts we see God’s throne as one of the monarchs’ from down below that can be dethroned with man-made bows, spears, swords or bullets. We rule with fear and not with love. Love became a weakling, worthy of no remark or of closer study to bequeath mankind. Love must be embraced. One must first bathe in its essence before extracting its primordial eternal force upon which wings life travelled down to earth.

Copyright © New Wine publishing LLC New York

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The forestalled Attainment

Dr. Joseph Luxum

Love’s the syringe that must be permitted to pierce our thick skin and then enter the heart. Once love is permitted to finally break in; it brings life; portion-by-portion and measure-by-measure until that moment when life takes over; even as that of Enoch’s of old. When life came to earth Life came to earth on the wings of love; it fluttered and hovered over the formless mass. When it touched down it first sorted things out and out of that blob came forth order, harmony, design… Mud turned into water below then water above. As symbols of time swamps, marshes and wetlands remain until now - memorials and as those ancient echoes of time. Darkness and light once mixed and colorless, undefined and sloppy acquired brightness, sharpness and clarity. Every pebble, every grain of sand showed off its color and its own particular shade. The gray remained as a memorial of that which once was in the primordial time while still in timeless realm. Pitch acquired blackness and its viscous substance and against it light staged its props and exquisite designs, vibrant, sharp most beautiful to the sight, desirable by the soul, which longs for the echoes of that ancient allegedly lost time. Monuments, memorials, testaments of time draw us closer to that monument when God’s soul was grieved for man chose death over life, grayness over color and darkness over light. But is it all lost in the endless obsession with sin and the supposed fall as if to arise takes only a hope in the two crossed laths, bloody nails and that thorny crown? Melancholy we preach, depression we reap. Sadness and regrets, pathetic excuses… the blaming game goes on endlessly… without remorse as if there’s nothing more, but the everpresent status quo. As I speak right now the self and its ego, its pride defies and fights, something so beautifully sublime, uplifting, immortal and where time plays no role; where sadness flee in the shadows of its own missed time. Attachments to marshes those swamps of decay man can’t part with today until one day they’ll swallow him whole with all his odd affections. But for what I say? –For rust and dust, man’s silly devices; their values, tags, sale prices… illusions of the ever dying time. Yet the lantern at the crossroads of time still flickers and sheds its hazy light. It’s hazy and dim for since eons of time it was not dusted or washed, left to disrepair. Alas, it was left alone and not cared for since this gift was given, from long ago, before clocks were made to cater to time that’s when man gave into slavery and its ticking sound. I point out that light I seek to revive; its glint has not gone out; it can be revived. Say, “It’s preposterous” for everyone must die yet it is so sad and depressive, so grievous to one’s heart; affectedly foreign, yes it’s bizarre, yet we have embraced death and domesticated like those roaming free boars, like chickens, cats and dogs. We follow the numbers and the moving arms of the regulators of time. Like gods we worship the skipping intervals of time and the rhythmic beat of planets orbiting the sun. Our eyes look down and our souls do follow the down-spiraling trail we’ve been busy cutting from dawn till sunset with calloused hands and sweat of the brow. What have we achieved by harnessing the atom? Death we breed and death we follow being so impressed with Cain’s ways, his décor and his vain sophistication. Gold - Cain’s god, he gave it to us to appraise and esteem and fall in love with. Those handles on your coffer, the inner lining too, is made out of the shiny glimmer and gold-like yellow brand whence it came to whence you plan to go. Those tears you shed at that last farewell don’t dry up too easy they resurface and stay wet, but not after the clock struck its final bell. The next of kin then follows the trail, which Cain had cut and always trekked; in time it hardened; now’s frozen solid and still.
Copyright © New Wine publishing LLC New York Page 5

The forestalled Attainment

Dr. Joseph Luxum

Your impressions are so strong and your lust’s overbearing for you must acquire and then possess the Cain manufactured wares then imitate his pomp, adorn yourself with glitz - everpresent diamond-studded rattrap. When life came to us there was peace. Silence spread itself like a colorful quilt and it covered the earth with still anticipation. High hopes and expectations of the bud the future blooming flower; man reflecting God beautiful and free. For the very first time the maker of mankind looked down and watched man’s resolve the final choice and every move. He gave us the wrong, but also the right; then gently nudged us toward that wondrous tree He named (‫ עץ דעת‬Etz Da’ath) the Tree of Knowledge. “Choose, choose…” He said and then “Choose again. Choose what is right, choose Me please. Choose life!” God made also SHOOV the power to return, but then He stepped into shadows of Eden’s foliage and hid Himself in pleads and folds of time as if to mourn the leaving of His children His prodigal sons. Ever since that day the universe expends, stars and planets keep drifting farther out into cosmic space being ever closer drawn to that dumping ground the black hole; away from the sun, which drifts so ever nearer to the sealed with death mankind; for matter will be swallowed; it’s just a matter of time. “Man has become like one of Us” God said; “Knowing TOV and RAH, he might stretch his hand and reach for the fruit of the tree of life, then he’ll live forever far away from Me from My heart and My love.” ‘Desperate measures’ you might say, but unless you know His heart you are lost to time, it is a cruel rule and vile subjugation. Let your soul now grasp the sparks these words fan out. If you are asleep then you’re dead, unfeeling, unyielding, obstinate and lost in this drowsy haze of yours. The frozen rain you have beckoned and accepted as your friend and not your foe tightens every blood cell once so happy and warm vigorously trekked giving your frail frame new strength. Awake, awake put on a brand new garb! Make yourself ready for the endlessness of time! Man was sent away for such was God’s plan that he should replenish the surface of the earth with his own special kind and in course of time bring back the sublime. It was no mishap or deliberation of some sinister evil kind from far beyond the clouds from the realm of no time, but lessons, which only the wise would recognize and then embrace without the pinch and splash of time, a spice as needless as those marshes and swamps. It’s our return God has been after ever since the original creation of time. When SHOOV begins to turn its healing repairing wheels then time slips away and loses all ground. Those inquisitors’ torture wheels then jam and permanently lock; they do fall silent, and with them their victims’ wails. “My Spirit shall not strive forever with man, which I had made for he too became flesh subjected to time; nonetheless his days shall be as long as one hundred and twenty and that is the max.”—God said for He still longs for man to make the journey back; and on his own coffin, hammer down no nail, but time. A realm of no shadows Shadows, more shadows and restless roving eyes; for the restless soul seeks peace, but in gloom, silhouettes of the warping time; it warps the truth found in bright light. Gloom and shapes excite the senses in a mystical twist seeking not repose, but more of the same, but why? Is there no solution; the truth bell tolls in vain? Deaf ears become deafer. While still in

Copyright © New Wine publishing LLC New York

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The forestalled Attainment

Dr. Joseph Luxum

mother’s womb those ears did hear that innocent sound of the heavenly truth as told by its mother’s heartbeat, which borrowed its rhythm from the launch of time. This rhythm I speak of here, the pulse of distances fixed only by time to be torn down and then united as one glorious creation; song of the past, future and the now. The sound is here its beats—measured in sevenths—must rest on the seventh all-else does not matter. Peaceful tranquility and stillness of thought, the roaming mind submits its brow and bows to the ruler from beyond the time. That wind driven feather just fell on your soul and brought you the memory of warmth when you were still in your mother’s womb. So peaceful so blissful… until you’ve gone astray into that gloom pursuing those absent senseless shadows warped by the ruthless master called time. Have you no desire, longing for that lantern still standing at the crossroads of time? The choices are four, directions are three for one you have chosen and grope in the murk. Have you lost direction all points of reference the sense of wrong and right? Is there no other way, but only the wide? The zigzags and maze a bundle of feelings; alas, they confuse your thoughts. “Who am I and where am I going? What’s the purpose of life?” That one road you took leads also back, back to the crossroads of time; where that lantern still beckons you with brightly luminous and open shafts of light to be embraced and kissed on the mouth like your beloved companion and friend. Why is it so hard to turn back the clock? Roll up the time like an ancient scroll; undo the writing and let the ink fade. Erase the records of every heartache and pain. Innocence beckons and smiles at you; it’s incredulity those ignorant doubts that keep holding you down like tent-pegs in the ground with strings attached to that rattled and tossed abode of yours. Let go; cut those strings that tie you down to those deadly things. A life shortening force is not of those elements like gravity or time, but of attachments to things that rot, rust, decay in time. They found their residence inside your mind subliminally ruling over your body and soul. Your spirit, behind bars now, longs to exit the frame it vivified for a time. Its service to you is not well esteemed with thoughts of thanks and praise. Look for the lantern’s brightest beacon of light and let it flash now only on one path. Take its proposal; embrace the light. You will be happy when you leave behind those burdens you’ve carried for a very long time. Take a respite breathe the now cleaner air. Take in, inhale and fill your soul with feelings of joy, peace and with remorse. Ignorance will fade as the new knowledge flows in like the unleashed and once dammed river divine. It will flood your consciousness and the subliminal mind too. And when you let, it will encompass, engulf and even subdue; and if you let your soul to soar, and when you let your mind be free then you will bask and swing like from an abundantly green and fruitful tree. For then you’ll be most satisfied and filled with plenty of provision—God’s ecstatic and never-ending love. It is very much here it has not gone into hiding. Alas it was weeping over you my child. That one path you chose was not of His choice and not of His plan for you. Driven by wind of the Most Holy One these words have come your way; His featherkisses will give you peaceful, most blessed assurance and with them comes the undying trust. All things will be well. No worry, no fret, no fuss. His mouth drip with honey, sweetest words ever, laden with power the essence of life you have ever encountered they now come your way. Embrace His plan. Return to that lantern at the crossroads of time. You could be so much more than you are right now. You could soar and fly high, but your wings keep being clipped giving them no time to heal. The injuries have been numerCopyright © New Wine publishing LLC New York Page 7

The forestalled Attainment

Dr. Joseph Luxum

ous, the love of a woman or love of a man turns into those sticks between your feathers. The time lost on pleasing and endless diversions, give you no power, but only take your strength away. The energies you have are endless, but the supply is endless too. But you have not known that until now for you are reading it now. The decision and choice are lacking now for some longer intervals of time. Your wings are weak, your resolve has waned, and you’ve wrapped yourself in a quilt of comforts, artifice the endless status quo. Time keeps rolling on while your call keeps resting on those dusty shelves in a library of regrets, missed chances and those wrong turns in life. “If I only could go back again to those crossroads of time and see what I’ve missed through my ignorance and dullness of mind; I’d give anything to see the consequence of my choice, one two or many more, amiss or right?” But am I God? What remains is trust in what I chose in life that must’ve been the path God paved for me for He shone His light on it for much too long. Would I step into shadows and grope therein; like a blind man whose only guide is his cane and a sense of smell? The light He shone for my feet was for none others, ‘twas the light I followed until this time. What remains is trust, perhaps a blind conformity to the fated will of yours. Oh God, I trust in Thee I fall at your mercy feet.

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