Monthly Archives: November 2011
I prefer the fog to rain
Imagine –you know you can—
Where it is conversations take place.
[that was it!]
Genesis, creation, beginning.
Primo (if Jose were asked. He sells life insurance [to the dead]).
If it where whispered
Among a populace composed of dreams;
It would happen like:
A picnic by an excitedly bubbling spring;
Lounging on soft summer grass.
The sounds of love became the hosannas of nature.
It usually ends in a bed:
A hospital B
A cheap hotel E
A pickup truck D.
Vast expanses of nothing where a world once breathed, turned, existed.
Continuing from where I left off last time…
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.
The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep. And the spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.
—- From the Book of Genesis. Verses 1 and 2.
See? The Hebrews saw it. They knew what was really up. What I like is the spirit of God hovering over the face of the waters. Just waiting…waiting…waiting…but waiting for what? Then BAM! “Then God said” God spoke. Sound…vibration. What the Upanishads calls OM.
The imperishable sound, is the seed of all that exists.
The past, the present, the future—all are but the unfolding of OM.
And whatever transcends the three realms of time, that indeed is the flowering of OM.
—–From the Mandukya Upanishad
The waters were sleeping. The Spirit of God was still. But they existed. They were. They are. Then God spoke. Suddenly the Spirit was jolted, it was energized. It became. The energy became vibration that became ripples on the Waters of Creation that became the universe.
In the beginning this universe was not.
There was just pure potential, from which was then born Being.
And from being was born the Self, which is known as perfect.
–From the Taittiriya Upanishad
IT’s all related, but no one wants to see that. To see that is to admit that we’ve been wrong this entire time. And well, you know how people are. People have never been wrong. People are always right, it’s the other people who have it all wrong. And if only those other people could just get it right like we have it right, then everything’ll be right and dandy. Just like in 1984 or “Brave New World.” That’s what modern fundamentalism is gearing towards. Of course, that’s what modern liberalism is gearing towards as well they’re just coming at it from a different angle. Don’t let them fool you, though. They’re both playing on the same team. One Nation over individualism. Dangerous grounds to be treading on. I don’t know what that was about. I hate politics and want nothing to do with them. Leave the politics to the wolves. That is all I’m going to say on the issue. That’s my two cents. Take it as you will.
And then there’s this:
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.
He was in the beginning with God.
And all things were made through Him, and without him nothing was made that was made.
—-From the Gospel of John. Chapter One, Verses 1-3
Again with the Word. Again with creation stemming from it. Here’s a widely held misconception: The Word that the Gospel of John was referring to was the Bible. What kind of idiotic and off-base nonsense led people to assume this? Nowhere does it even hint to that. The first “Christian” Bible wasn’t even compiled until around the 4th century A.D. And don’t even get me started on the King James Bible. At best, defining the “Word of God” as a religious text, the comparisons are more easily assimilated with the Torah.
In the beginning, two thousand years before the Heaven and the earth, seven things were created: The Torah written with black fire on white fire, and lying in the lap of God
But that’s not all!
When God was about to create the world by his word, the twenty-two letters of the alphabet descended from the terrible and august crown of God whereon they were engraved with a pen of flaming fire. They stood round God and each said, “Create the world through me!”
——–Both excerpts from the Haggadah
Words made holy. Sounds inciting creation. There are secrets here.
Dig this: In the Beginning was God. God the Absolute. And God, for whatever reason, decided he wanted to create things (such are the benefits of being the Absolute). It was this decision, this first impulse (or Word or Logos or OM) of God that separated the physical from the spiritual. The impulse caused vibrations…caused sound…caused the universe to take shape. Energy was created and transferred into God’s desire. From nothing sprang something. However, this new impulse couldn’t exist within the realm of God. God can be nothing but absolute. He is One, He is Whole. He cannot be fractioned or portioned. Thus, God is set apart from physicality. God does not exist on physical levels. He manifests himself on them and through them, but will not exist there.
That’s why the existence of God can never be proven by science. Science and its interpretations are strictly limited to this “mundane” realm we are immersed in. Because how can you explain something that you really have no concept of? How can you prove the existence of something that doesn’t exist on this level of reality? Its easy to disregard the existence of God based solely on the devastating misunderstandings that Western culture and its new religion, Science, have deemed “Truth.” It’s right there in front of you. All you have to do to see it is look at it. Logic offers no understanding.
And it is impossible that any one can explain the passing out of one existence and the entering into a new existence, or the growth, increase and development of consciousness, independent of bodily form, feeling, perception and mental formations.
The world however is given to pleasure, delighted with pleasure, enchanted with pleasure. Verily such beings will hardly understand the law of conditionality, The Dependent Origination of everything; incomprehensible to them will also be the end of all formations, the forsaking of every substratum of rebirth, the fading away of craving, detachment, extinction, Nibbana.
——-From Majjhima-Nikaya (Buddhist Text)
The tao that can be told
is not the eternal Tao.
The name that can be named
is not the eternal Name.
—— From Tao Te Ching.
I know who you are—Princess behind the Veil.
Inside your eyes is a celestial glitter twinkling like stars.
Their constellations mapped by this explorer’s diligent hand.
So forever peer at me my Mystery Mistress
across time, across dreams, across memories and mental inseams.
And I’ll peer back.
For one day, your name will be a prayer upon my lips and a blessing on my soul.
And one day, I’ll find my refuge from the world in your smile.
A Tricky Synchronicity riddled:
The magnitude of your enigma shatters the supercontinent of my heart.
What once was Pangaea has become Pan Gaia.
An Esoteric Voice sang:
I am at the mercy of your Apocalypse and only find hope in your light. So never look away, for there is only darkness when you do.
A Holy Moment Testified:
the first word the OM spoke was
It comes about in an individual’s Personal Quest that they reach a threshold. This is the threshold to the Doorway of Realization. Stepping through is the most terrifying journey one can embark upon. For to step through that doorway is to commit one’s entire being to the fulfillment of their Legend. This means a person has staked their very existence on the outcome of their story. Success means personal enlightenment and contentment on an epic scale. Failure means oblivion. It is literally an all or nothing wager. However, the game is a long one and sometimes you’re up…and sometimes you aren’t. And it’s easy to cash in your chips and move on when you’re down and feeling the presence of Destiny hovering seductively over your shoulder urging you to bet even more…It takes a Seeking Fool to accept the advice of that seductive Aphrodite. It takes a True Believer to stare her in the face when you lose. To watch her eyes sparkle with laughter and joy as she asks, “Do you trust me?” And it takes a Legend to smile with laugher and joy right back at her and reply, “What the hell?” And how does a person go about accomplishing this Herculean feat?
The mark of a moderate man
Is freedom from his own ideas.
Tolerant like the sky,
All-pervading like sunlight,
Firm like the mountain
Supple like a tree in the wind,
He has no destination in view
And makes use of anything
Life happens to bring his way. Tao te Ching (59)
That’s IT. The Answer. In order to achieve your Personal Legend you must release yourself from the very obligation of it. Once you do this, you free yourself to move forward through that Doorway of Realization. Tolerant, all-pervading, firm and supple. You have no destination in view because you already know where you are going. Thus, anything life brings your way will ultimately further your journey toward your fulfillment. The next line the Tao gives is of the utmost importance:
Nothing is impossible for him. (59)
What a beautiful thing this is! To know that realization is tickling your fingertips…begging you grasp it. To know that your real journey will begin as soon as you take that first step!
However, dear Seeker, this does not mean you won’t meet with failure. You should understand that failure always signifies a fork in the road. It gives you a choice: You can let your failure discourage you enough to get up from the table and cash in your chips, feeling hurt and indignant at your loss. Jaded and blaming those who’ve wrong you on your Path. Or you can use the failure as an opportunity to realize one of your weaknesses. Weaknesses can always be turned into Strengths with enough will power and determination.
Failure is an opportunity.
If you blame someone else,
There is no end to the blame. Tao te Ching (79)
Simply: Take responsibility for yourself and get on with it!
Therefore the Master
Fulfills her own obligations
And corrects her own mistakes.
She does what she needs to do
And demands nothing of others. Tao te Ching (79)
You know I love you, right? Of course she didn’t, but how could he tell her? What is love to the jaded? What are thoughts of passionate romance to the poor souls who have plunged themselves over Love’s cliffs only to land on the rocky crags below? How would he explain feelings to her that he himself claimed not to have? Thus, Jones was in a predicament. He paced back and forth inside his head. For days he did this. Constantly musing while going about daily life in a somewhat cognizant state of situational awareness.
And what of her? What of this tempting and airy mistress of fantasy? She was a flighty and sibilant Vision. One that skirted about the emotional center of men’s souls and invited them to their dooms like a siren. Her voice was music, her presence was enlightening. She seemed so carefree about everything, but Jones saw under the surface to the smoldering discontent below. The hopelessness in her spirit that caused her to abandon possibility for grim certainty. “She lived with cats,” was what she saw chiseled on her tombstone if she ever descended from the lofty heights and consented to death. So she chose to remain as she was: an incorporeal longing tugging on the dreams of those lucky enough to experience her.
He’d scaled mountains to see her. He’d reached the very summit of the highest peak of the highest mountain in all of the Realm of Possibility just to tell her what he couldn’t say.
He stared at her with mouth agape and timidly reached out to grasp her only to recoil when the mere proximity toward her caused him to vibrate at higher frequencies. He was unable to act upon something that should have been as natural and easy as walking up and introducing yourself to the wind. And so Infinity Jones stood when he should have moved. Became rock when he should’ve been fluid.
So she sang him a song to lure him closer. A haunting tune of intimate moments and knowing glances. She told him of sparkling gazes across tables and of laughing and living, but never loving. For to venture into those realms was to venture losing everything! The beauty and purity of the experience at hand would be tainted. Changed. Never the same again and then when paths split (because they always do) the moment is gone forever. She danced this way, moving close and then pulling away. Moving so close that he could feel her sweet breath on his neck only to spin away with the wind and light in her wake.
She never knew, if even for a moment, if love were true or only fantasized about in fairy tales.
“Let me ask you, Infinity Jones, a question with truthful undertones.”
“Here is the story, a parable true. Listen and tell me, what should one do?”
And Infinity Jones listened.
“Two individuals, call them ‘people’, did meet. One day by chance while walking a street. Eyes met and smiles gazed. So they stopped and chatted afloat in a haze. Friends they became, companions too. But never was love uttered, twas a terrible secret to be muttered. Friends they were and friends they will be. For some lines should be crossed very timidly.”
Infinity answered her Sphinx’s riddle. “Is it better to have it fade away than to never happen at all? How many great loves have been abandoned? And for what? Countless wonderful epics haven’t been and never will be written because people are too afraid to act upon something in fear of breaking or ruining it. Nay my symphonic siren, this should not be so. Understand that emotions aren’t as complicated as they seem. Those special moments shared with special people are that way because of the affectionate feelings under the surface. If these things are not acted upon, they fade. Then the only thing your time produced is a bittersweet memory. And in this wandering fool’s experience, fond memories are much preferred to bittersweet ones. So no matter how you write it, your parable ends in loss. And it is the worst kind of loss, at that: loss of something never attempted at all. Best to seize those rare and special relationships. They aren’t manifested enough in a person’s life to deny them the possibility.”
The siren laughed a beautiful tune and twirled around to blow a sweet breeze across the muggy woodlands of a Midsummer’s soul. This was her only answer. Always and forever. The same beatuful song, the same unwilling sonata refusing to be written.
With a blown kiss and a sigh, Infinity wished her goodbye. And descended from the heavens into the wistful land of Sixes and Sevens.
Eclipsing the Cosmic Mother
With clockwise rotations of energy
That open all the doors to Divine release.
Energy that outlines the Void in perfect golden circles.
That was her breathing, there in the silence, crying prayers that only I could hear.
I will love you
Whether or not the rain comes
Or the great cooling off
Or the great heating up.
And I smiled
I am all that you are
And nothing at all
Who are you to me?
A whisper upon thin air?
Yet the truth remains elusive in its absoluteness.
What it is/ what we would like it to be.
Inside fantasies I collide with the spinning Universes in God’s eye.
From my perch high above reality I SEE YOU:
…wondering why your prayers still remain unanswered…
…wondering why your sky still hasn’t fallen…
You are NONE of these things-…- and all of them at once.
A Communion has been prepared in your soul.
The places have been set
The Body has been broken
The Life has been drained of blood.
Who are you?
That you see your own reflection staring back at you from Pharaoh’s Bosom?
Are you worthy of tasting the Living Word?
Can you feel Its sting on your lips when you call out my name?
It was MY hand grasping yours in that Vale of Shadows and Darkness.
MY words sustained your heart when Fear threatened to consume it.
MY hands pull the strings of creation into the Holy Singularity.
I am the Great Void’s puppeteer.
Without guidance you are nothing.
Without faith you are lost.
Scream for me and I’ll hear you.
Desire me…and everything I am…
…There is a Golden Flower
Inside Buddha’s Tear…
When God spoke unreality shattered
And birthed the universe by dancing with
The Cosmic Mother.
A heavenly vibration of Love
That whispers “OM” to us all.
“I adore all my star-born children,”
The Universe sings as a lullaby.
But who cries for those quarks
Who give of themselves freely
blinking in and out of existence
So that the Grand Illusion can be?
…There is a Golden Flower
Inside Buddha’s Tear…
Bound and drifting
Suspended in the liquid air.
Ah, but those eyes…
She floats through me
Waves gently lapping
On the shores of my silent desires.
Adorned in simple robes of lucidity
Hovering under a ring of tranquil passion
And those eyes…
Her lithe form sleeps against silk
And the darkness becomes her
Smooth to the touch
And those eyes…
Those eyes were made for killing.
I see the ocean’s thunder
Pounding against virgin shores.
I hear love gained and lost
Tragedy turned comedy
(or however you fancy
Living their moments on
Pure sandy beaches.
For some reason I think it’s dark.
But that doesn’t stop her from letting go of my hand.
We aren’t afraid of the same things.
She tells me,
“I’m gonna walk to the moon.”
I used to always smile until
…sitting on a beach
listening as birds praise whatever it is they praise.
I wonder if anyone will ever sing for me. Not out of praise, but maybe simply because it feels right.