Hello, this is Errol Strider with The Laughing Heart.
Welcome aboard, partner.
We've got so much going on in our world, and hopefully you'll take this time and be with me.
I've got several pieces to share with you that are reflective of my own journey in a poetic way.
So with that being said, let's just get started.
This first piece is about going inside and experiencing the within of things.
Here you go. It's called an inside job.
The fact is I do hang about within loitering in my own crusty, dried snot impressions of the world,
flicking useless butts toward the curb as I nod at other transients like me,
waiting uselessly for grub steak or a can of beer or a peep at light shows and hurly gurlies,
pulling our tattered coats close for warmth, though we'd never think to hug each other.
I must like it where I live, nestling up against crumbly walls, worn from make-believe corrosion,
chipping away at the seams of the curvaceous mindsets of my insides for protection.
As I gaze at high-heeled people passing, wagging their purses or briefcases at me,
trying to convince me stylishly that they know who they are.
Yes, inside ye old mine like some vacant lot in the inner city,
collecting old garbage, waiting for the right realtor to come along
and fertilize it with buildings or a plant.
So here we all are together, gathering inside my mind,
bouncing our impressions of reality at each other like pitching pennies or searching through garbage pails
for sustenance or unused bananas.
Inside, outside, just a ping-pong game or any other back-and-forth discharge,
bopping about.
This side trying to convince that side that it's still there when that side has the ball.
You can't have it both ways, you're either in or out, so they tell me,
like some amphibian breathing air or water, no gules anymore,
in spite of whales and other down-unders.
So we think that by talking to each other about it, we're making a difference.
I mean, you can't cave in on inside, it's the support.
So let me in.
I'm tired of my transient life mind waiting around 6th Street in San Francisco or other
wanton places, maintaining my position as an outsider with just enough booze to keep me warm
and a half-used book of matches for light.
Well, there you have it, the inside job.
Now, just a switch energy here.
This is an audio of one of my favorite pieces that I wrote.
It was inspired by my hero, the French mystic scientist, philosopher Tejard Desjardins,
who is famous for his book, Phenomen and a Man.
Tejard, by the way, had a unique capacity.
I read once that just as a one-eyed person has no depth of perception,
a one-eyed materialist or a one-eyed spiritualist, for lack of a better word,
there's no depth of perception.
But Tejard had both, which makes him extremely challenging because you kind of have to have both
parts of your mind going, left and right brain cooperating and approaching the concepts
and the ideas together.
Well, that's kind of unusual and not many people have that capacity.
I'm not sure I do, but I'd like to think I do.
Anyway, this piece is called More, or Is This It?
And here we enter the home of Lord and Lady Ubridge, who we can often find,
exploring the philosophic aspects of life with a humorous and ironic touch.
Again, this is More.
Is this it?
I think it's a poem.
Is this all there is?
Have we arrived?
Oh, am I?
Where are we going?
I don't know. Where are we going?
I don't know. That's why I asked the question.
What question?
Is this it?
It just follows his cotton-dice pose.
It's difficult to say.
I suppose it depends on the point of view.
Well, yes. If you're up, it would look quite different than if you're down.
If you're in the middle, it would look all together different.
So where are you?
I can't tell unless I know if this is it.
If this is all there is, I'm up, you speak not.
If most is yet to come, I'm down.
And there's your halfway, I'm in the middle.
What makes you say so?
Because I can see lots below and lots above.
Well, I can see lots below, right?
But what makes you think there's any more?
That's it.
More. There must be more to come.
I think you think so.
Well, it's not happening, is it?
And why shouldn't this be it?
Oh, it would be dreadful.
That's all it is for all their lives.
Excuse me.
This is all there is.
Besides, there's always been more before.
Why shouldn't there be more afterwards?
I would rather have a domestic, I'd say.
Besides, what makes you think more is a habit?
Because there's always been more before.
There's necessarily need to be more after.
It's for change, wouldn't there?
No, not more.
What could not change?
Why not? Why won't more change?
Because it always has been more.
But someone could shut the whole bloody thing down.
Press the button, pull the lever, pop the cord.
Why, can they want to do that?
I don't know why, but anything they do.
Bunch of weirders, if you ask me.
That's why I don't think you could be sure there's going to be more.
Unless you meet more winners.
Look at it this way.
It was the beginning.
It was a tiny bit, right?
All right.
Then they got to the other top, right?
All right.
Then there was a small bunch.
Then a bunch.
Then a cuddly amount.
Then a lot.
Then a whole big bunch, right?
Can you hear the crowd?
It's there.
That's what I don't think you could say.
I don't think you could say there's more to be more.
What then is this taking on everything already?
You know, how would there be more from more?
Besides, who won more?
Do you have?
Yes.
I could want more.
Why?
Why would we want it to end here?
Besides, if there are more, things might get better?
What makes you think more is better?
Bigger hasn't been better.
Why should more be better?
Because the whole is great.
The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
I beg your pardon?
I just said.
The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
What does that have to do with it?
What do you do with freedom, do you?
I suppose so.
It's all what it's said.
But within that way, I presume.
Well?
That doesn't mean it always would be that way.
Yeah, me, the whole.
That part might be greater than the whole.
I don't know the doubt.
What does that have to do with that being more?
Well, it just proves that if the whole is great
in the sum of their parts, if there are more parts,
then the whole would be greater, still.
Is that a truth?
If he said, proves that the whole is greater,
more is greater.
Excuse me, I don't even know what I'm talking about.
Great.
Great, I don't know.
But you said better.
Yes.
Because if the whole is greater, there's more chance for the parts
to be better, because they are part of the whole.
Thank you.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
That proves that more is greater.
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Because it's always been that way.
And because the part is never as big as the whole.
What?
That's fine.
It's the sum of the parts.
It is never bigger than the whole.
The thing is always get more holy can't they?
No.
No.
No.
Holy.
Yes.
No.
Holy.
It means that things can get better can't they?
Better.
Bigger than me.
But what makes you think they'll get better?
I don't think they'll get better at all.
Besides.
Besides.
What if they shut it all down?
Hey.
Yes.
The parts.
The parts.
What can I do with that?
What did they do?
Why not?
Because the whole is bigger than the sum of the parts.
And they said only that few parts tried to shut the whole thing down.
And I would say they could shut the whole thing up.
Because the whole is greater.

There's no more stuff.
No.
We're still on our way then?
Of course.
Oh.
And are you heading my way?
I don't need so.
No.
No.
How could I catch a ride with you then?
You seem to know where it is.
No, I'm not.
I had my own personal notes.
So I have to be growing up in different roles than you.
We do it on a different road than you.
But I am me too when we get there.
There.
When we arrive.
When we can be arrived.
I'm not a cold finder.
I expect to.
Right out to.
We'll have them see you there.
Yeah.
Yeah.
You've been out going off then, you say?
Of course, we are.
Oh, can I go?
Well, thanks to the list.
You're quite welcome.
You're quite welcome.
You're welcome.
You're welcome.
Well, there you have it.
The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
Speaking of the whole, what is the whole?
The all of it.
I like to think of God, for instance, as all beings.
So there we are in an incredibly vast and large universe.
I am a student of the teacher Yeshua.
And one of the things he said was, which is kind of extraordinary,
he said that all of the physical universe is about 1% of all that is.
I'm laughing because it's utterly beyond my comprehension to faith and something like that.
So, but be that as it may, one of the things that strikes me is just unbelievable is that we live in this vast,
infinitely complicated phenomenon that is universe reality.
And then here we are as these little individual self-contained conscious beings.
And somehow, at least according to the teachings that I ostensibly subscribe to,
that very allness of being is somehow condensed into my own consciousness.
And as I said in the piece, inside, going inside, that seems to be the opportunity.
And by going inside, which evidently is discovered through getting stillness,
meaning shutting down the constant ebb and flow of thought,
which is if you've tried to meditate, it's not easy.
I've been meditating for years and it's still not easy.
But let's take another approach to going within.
This piece is called within.
Let's see if you can follow this and hopefully relate to it and even better apply it to your own life experience.
Turn away from the world of sights and sounds.
A dazzling display, a merry-go-round.
Come in.
Come in.
In.
Into the inner world where blossoms rise from rocks and miracles occur.
Turn away from the world of lustre and spark, a vivid appeal.
Come out of the dark.
Come in.
Come in.
Into the inner world where heaven and earth shake hands and lion and lamb embrace.
Turn away from the world of time and space, listening bright, a hectic race.
Come in.
Come in.
Come into the inner world where stars and thoughts collide and pearls spring from pebbles.
Turn away from the world that scintillates, a euphoric place that stimulates.
Come in.
Come in.
Come into the inner world where bright spheres never set and roadways never end.
Turn away from the world of moments delight, charming and bold that seems to excite.
Come in.
Come in.
Come into the inner world where flowers never will and deserts become gardens.
Turn away from the world that blows and shines, the things to do so lovely and fun.
Come in.
Come in.
Come in.
Into the inner world where snowflakes appear in colors and raindrops rise up to the sky.
Come in.
Turn away from the world of sights and sounds, a dazzling display, a merry-go-round.
Come in.
Come in.
Into the inner world where blossoms rise from rocks and miracles occur.
Turn away from the world of lust or spark, a vivid appeal.
Come out of the dark.
Come in.
Come in.
Into the inner world where heaven and earth shake hands and lion and lamb and race.
Turn away from the world of time and space, listening bright, a hectic race.
Come in.
Come in.
Come into the inner world where stars and thoughts collide and pearls spring from pebbles.
Turn away from the world that scintillates, a euphoric place that stimulates.
Come in.
Come in.
Come into the inner world where bright spheres never set and roadways never end.
Turn away from the world of moments delight, charming and bold that seems to excite.
Come in.
Come in.
Into the inner world where flowers never wilt and deserts become gardens.
Turn away from the world that glows and shines, the things to do so lovely and fun.
Come in.
Come in.
Into the inner world where snowflakes appear in colors and raindrops rise up to the sky.
Come in.
One comforting thing is that even in the midst of this challenging time, I have enough
presence of mine to share this with you.
And it is indeed for many of us a challenging time.
Sometimes when I go through my own stuff, if you will, and then I think about what's going
on all over the world and the destruction and the divisiveness and the other difficulties
and travails of humanity and this suffering, etc.
Of course, it's just a little bit of it as I read once.
The universe is not a dark background with little white spots of life and goodness.
It's actually the opposite.
It's a universe of expansiveness and light and well-being with little dots of blackness
scattered about in it.
Of course, the immediate doesn't focus on that and that's where we get a lot of information
from the media because let's face it, conflict sells.
Here's a piece I want to share which is kind of, well, the way out and something that
enables me to allow myself, that's probably a better way of putting it to apprehend the
universal reality that is gifted to me.
This piece is called grace.
Grace touches me with a liquid embrace, just at the point where I vanish from my side.
My hand reaches out, raspy, questing.
Is something there?
Grace witnesses to presence.
When I am tempted to shout, nothing, nowhere, grace holds to me and invites me to feel
the follow suit with hearts, a handful of hearts.
Grace descends full throttle like a rocket cleared for landing with a cargo of flowing
goodness when the tariffs of blame are lifted.
Grace, a slow curving essence just round the bed where my thoughts leave off and only
my faith drives me through.
Grace picks me up when I falter, holds me down when I try to fly apart in the screaming
of my doubt.
Grace, the eager surprise, when I thought the party was over and it really wasn't for
me.
Grace, warm and lush under my feet on a spring morning after brittle winter.
The winter I create each moment I run from the springtime in my mind.
Oh, the air is pregnant with Grace, pulsating, caressing each pore of my body, demanding
entry into my lungs, insisting on the in and out, never tired of breathing.
Oh, there's Grace standing above the timber line where my thoughts can no longer know
and the howling winds tear my pretensions asunder.
Grace is infinite arms forever surrounding as they weave themselves through my all too
clever defenses.
Squeeze through the turmoil of my bewilderment and wrap themselves around my budding though
tentative trust in the love from which Grace peers to emerge, resplendent in its electrified
colors and sweeps us into that compelling embrace.
The blue mead, the arms stare.
Gracing our heartbeats, one more chance, the double, one more chance, the double.
Choose again, the double, the double, the double.
Choose again.
Grace is the storehouse for choices.
It never empties or dries up or lingers in indecisiveness.
And Grace has got blowing kisses each time we recognize each other.
Oh, I thought it was you.
Yes, it's me.
Oh, there you are.
Yes, I am.
So good of you to come.
And Grace giggles in gratitude.
The geriating and the realized sensation that the gift is received.
The present, open, offering, except.
Thank you, says Grace.
I only ask to be received, to be lived.
A living Grace.
Graceful.
Grace us me.
And Grace descends like rain on the field of our waiting.
When we lie valor, vulnerable to the forces, forever watchful.
Feel the softness and health.
Open to the moist replenishment.
For that is Grace saturating my soul.
When I show up as a virgin, Grace can penetrate me anew.
For each instant is virgin.
And life blossoms in the womb of Grace.
And Grace is the beacon in the storm.
When I raise my eyes out of chinais.
And Grace is the exit door down the aisle of my panic.
And Grace is the surprise deserved at the end of a less than erasure, feast.
The oasis defying the desert.
And Grace is the innocence just outside jaded expectations.
And Grace is a familiar endearing alone at the other end of the line.
And Grace is the welcome sigh of relief.
And the story turns out all right.
Grace is God's goodness and the gratitude we feel.
When she chooses to show up inside a person.
Whether we call that being Christ, Buddha, or Krishna, or you, or evil.

be open to receive the gift and allow ourselves to ride the gift into awareness,
into increased consciousness. And what drives all of this, as I am aspiring to
realize, is love. I often think about what is love. I remember when I started my
spiritual journey and I was realized that I was unaware of what love really is.
And I have come to understand that love cannot be defined. It's like a fish
trying to define the water or the light beam trying to define light. It is. And
the best I can do is to allow the love, the light, the power, the life to flow
through me. And as it flows through me, my hope is that it will be received and
recognized by others. And one curious thing that I have found, it doesn't seem to
matter what I'm going through no matter how dark I get. When I am with other
people, that always goes to the background and my love surges forth. And I find myself
engaging in some very beautiful and profound ways. By the way, simply by asking
people their name, you'd be amazed when you do that, just what shows up and what is
revealed because as Martin Booper said, all real living is meeting. And the other way of
putting it, everyone wants to be seen. I know I've jumped around a lot tonight, but this is the
best I could give you. Thank you for joining me. This is Errol Strider of The Laughing Heart.
The LaughingHeart.org is our website. And you can go to my YouTube channel and see videos
of lots of stuff that my spouse Rachel and I have done that strider entertainment.
We're going to my sub stack and read some of the things that I have created. That being said,
I hope that we can gather together again and plummet into both the divine and the absurdities
of our existence. Good night.