Patriotism [pa·tri·ot·ism] [pey-tree-uh-tiz-uhm] is...
living in a foreign country for nigh on two years, having left friends and family behind, working at a less-than-minimum-wage job for unbelievable hours at a stretch, weekdays and weekends, day in and day out, often with less than four hours of sleep to make just enough money to pay rent, busting your hump at school so you can some day hope to graduate and get a real job, one which allows you to pay off your (ever-increasing) debts, be they to your parents, towards student loans, or due to your monthly credit card payments, but still using LifeStyles brand condoms, made in INDIA [over 1.2 billion sold in the USA!]
Jai Hind! :p
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
To The One That Got Away
i had a dream about you this morning
and it was one of those
happy/sad things
because you were beautiful
(in the dream)
as always
and i enjoyed seeing you
again
and talking to you
but you
were not really
there.
And in a way
i think i
was
happy-er
that you
weren't.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Crossing the Vaitarani
'This is the terror. To have emerged from nothingness, to have a name, consciousness of self, deep inner feelings, an excruciating inner yearning for life and self-expression - and with all this yet to die.' -Ernst Becker
Splashdown. We've fallen down the hole into what looks like another cavern, which echoes with the flow of some large body of water. As my eyes adjust to the dark, I see that we are at the banks of an underground river. The river is wide, and the opposite bank is hard to see. Strange lights, like will 'o the wisps, provide some dim illumination, and by this wan light I can see my darker self sprawled on the ground some ways away. I stand up, and the blood rushes away from my head, making me dizzy. The fall has left me bruised and aching, but thankfully, nothiing is broken. I make my way to the lip of the bank, walking slowly to keep my head from spinning, my feet making soft, squishy, *crunching* noises. I can't look down to identify the source of the sounds, because I am riveted by the horrifying sight before me. The river is not water at all, but blood, and as my senses reel, I am suddenly aware of the overpowering stench of rotting flesh that pervades the entire cavern.
Before I can recover, several of the lights materialise in front of me, and rush straight at my head. My legs buckle under me and it feels as if my weight has doubled. There's a buzzing in my ears, and I'm overcome by a sudden sense of vertigo. I black out for a moment and when I come to again, I'm vaguely aware of another presence in my head.
And then I hear the screaming from behind me. I whirl around to find my adversary pitifully scrambling away from the river, only to end up cowering against the curved stone wall of the cavern, the Fear come naked in his terrified screams.
Curiously, I am not afraid. I look down at my feet, and find myself surrounded by human bones, rotting muscle, skin and offal. The 'ground' is not stone or rock, being entirely composed of the skeletal remains of countless bodies. A subterranean golgotha, a thousand times worse than any other place of death imaginable. And the odor of death permeates this place through and through. And still, I feel no fear, while my dark half rants and screams obscenities at me, desperately scrabbling to climb the walls of this place, to no avail.
I am impelled to speak. The voice and intent are mine, but the words seem to come from somewhere else, a part of me that I had no access to except perhaps in dreams. The sensation is not unpleasant, in fact quite the contrary, I feel a refreshing sense of purpose, of wholeness, of finally being in control.
"What's wrong? Isn't this what you wanted?"
"Shut up! You don't know what you've done! This isn't our time!!"
"Why? What are you so afraid of? Death?"
"Don't you be so glib you shit! What do you know of death?"
"I know that death is a fact of life. All that are born must die. I have nothing to fear from death. And neither do you."
"WORDS! More of your damnable words! YOU CAN'T DEFEAT DEATH WITH WORDS! NOBODY CAN!"
And then he breaks down, all the anger going out of him, leaving only the Fear, naked and vulnerable.
"Please. I don't want to die. Just get me out of this place. I promise, I swear, I'll leave you alone."
"You know as well as I do that's not going to happen. You are a part of me. My first reaction to the world."
"Then why are you doing this!!"
"Because you've become lost. I needed to find you again. Stripped of all your posturing, reduced to the basic facts of your being. And here we are."
"Look, this will be the end of us. You don't really want that do you? We will be returned to the void. AND I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK!!"
"Returned to the void?? Death is not a return to nothingness. Who can claim to emerge from nothing? Can you? Where did you get this body from? This form, this shape you hold, this structure holding you, can you presume to claim ownership of any of its component parts? You don't own any of it, not one molecule, not one atom. It belongs to the all, every last speck of your existence, so dont resist it, and dont deny it. Not one of us has emerged from nothing, we owe our existence to the grand infinitude of all creation. So why fear Death? We come from the All, we live and breathe the All, and to the heart of the Universe itself is where we shall go when we die. We are all of us, each one woven into the tapestry of life, there is no place for Fear in this system. Come, take my hand, brother. Let me show you."
We hold out our hand. I can see the Fear holding him back, but I can also see the Will radiating outward from Us into him, and moving along that ephemeral thread, he takes a step forward, and grasps it. The touch is electric. Everything changes. The river doesn't foam with blood anymore, its speed arrested. Time has no meaning. I am whole again, alone no more. And I know exactly what I have to do. I move towards the river, and the blood begins to churn again, lapping at my feet. A terrible black smoke fills the entire cavern, buzzing with the angry noises of a thousand insects, stinging at my eyes and throat, but I can scarcely feel any pain. I wade in to the river of souls, the blood hot, burning away at my flesh, until I am completely submerged. And I close my eyes.
Splashdown. We've fallen down the hole into what looks like another cavern, which echoes with the flow of some large body of water. As my eyes adjust to the dark, I see that we are at the banks of an underground river. The river is wide, and the opposite bank is hard to see. Strange lights, like will 'o the wisps, provide some dim illumination, and by this wan light I can see my darker self sprawled on the ground some ways away. I stand up, and the blood rushes away from my head, making me dizzy. The fall has left me bruised and aching, but thankfully, nothiing is broken. I make my way to the lip of the bank, walking slowly to keep my head from spinning, my feet making soft, squishy, *crunching* noises. I can't look down to identify the source of the sounds, because I am riveted by the horrifying sight before me. The river is not water at all, but blood, and as my senses reel, I am suddenly aware of the overpowering stench of rotting flesh that pervades the entire cavern.
Before I can recover, several of the lights materialise in front of me, and rush straight at my head. My legs buckle under me and it feels as if my weight has doubled. There's a buzzing in my ears, and I'm overcome by a sudden sense of vertigo. I black out for a moment and when I come to again, I'm vaguely aware of another presence in my head.
And then I hear the screaming from behind me. I whirl around to find my adversary pitifully scrambling away from the river, only to end up cowering against the curved stone wall of the cavern, the Fear come naked in his terrified screams.
Curiously, I am not afraid. I look down at my feet, and find myself surrounded by human bones, rotting muscle, skin and offal. The 'ground' is not stone or rock, being entirely composed of the skeletal remains of countless bodies. A subterranean golgotha, a thousand times worse than any other place of death imaginable. And the odor of death permeates this place through and through. And still, I feel no fear, while my dark half rants and screams obscenities at me, desperately scrabbling to climb the walls of this place, to no avail.
I am impelled to speak. The voice and intent are mine, but the words seem to come from somewhere else, a part of me that I had no access to except perhaps in dreams. The sensation is not unpleasant, in fact quite the contrary, I feel a refreshing sense of purpose, of wholeness, of finally being in control.
"What's wrong? Isn't this what you wanted?"
"Shut up! You don't know what you've done! This isn't our time!!"
"Why? What are you so afraid of? Death?"
"Don't you be so glib you shit! What do you know of death?"
"I know that death is a fact of life. All that are born must die. I have nothing to fear from death. And neither do you."
"WORDS! More of your damnable words! YOU CAN'T DEFEAT DEATH WITH WORDS! NOBODY CAN!"
And then he breaks down, all the anger going out of him, leaving only the Fear, naked and vulnerable.
"Please. I don't want to die. Just get me out of this place. I promise, I swear, I'll leave you alone."
"You know as well as I do that's not going to happen. You are a part of me. My first reaction to the world."
"Then why are you doing this!!"
"Because you've become lost. I needed to find you again. Stripped of all your posturing, reduced to the basic facts of your being. And here we are."
"Look, this will be the end of us. You don't really want that do you? We will be returned to the void. AND I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK!!"
"Returned to the void?? Death is not a return to nothingness. Who can claim to emerge from nothing? Can you? Where did you get this body from? This form, this shape you hold, this structure holding you, can you presume to claim ownership of any of its component parts? You don't own any of it, not one molecule, not one atom. It belongs to the all, every last speck of your existence, so dont resist it, and dont deny it. Not one of us has emerged from nothing, we owe our existence to the grand infinitude of all creation. So why fear Death? We come from the All, we live and breathe the All, and to the heart of the Universe itself is where we shall go when we die. We are all of us, each one woven into the tapestry of life, there is no place for Fear in this system. Come, take my hand, brother. Let me show you."
We hold out our hand. I can see the Fear holding him back, but I can also see the Will radiating outward from Us into him, and moving along that ephemeral thread, he takes a step forward, and grasps it. The touch is electric. Everything changes. The river doesn't foam with blood anymore, its speed arrested. Time has no meaning. I am whole again, alone no more. And I know exactly what I have to do. I move towards the river, and the blood begins to churn again, lapping at my feet. A terrible black smoke fills the entire cavern, buzzing with the angry noises of a thousand insects, stinging at my eyes and throat, but I can scarcely feel any pain. I wade in to the river of souls, the blood hot, burning away at my flesh, until I am completely submerged. And I close my eyes.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Prelude; Endgame
All is darkness. I am cold and alone, on a bare stone floor as before. My adversary, the aggressor, is none but myself. And I am alone. I'm back in the cavern again. I am on the ground, he is standing tall in his rags, all sackcloth and ashes, pacing back and forth on the cold stone floor, cackling as he tears pages from a battered old leather diary. My diary.
"Oh look, here's a fun excerpt!"
He reads an excerpt from my diary to me, one of my low points, about how I feel I'm slowly making my way through every person on the planet, alienating each one, and this makes me sad, because there are a lot of people, and its going to take me a long time to isolate myself from each one, personally.
"A tad dramatic, wouldn't you say? Oh wait, you DID say!", followed by a burst of maniacal laughter.
I shift my weight around, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. There is no visible source of light, and yet I'm able to 'see' him/me.
"Why do you look like me? Who are you?", I ask again.
"Isn't it obvious? I am the God of HELLFIRE, and I bring you.. naah, just kidding. I AM you. Well, a part of you anyway. I'm the one who cautions you against risk, the little voice in your head that keeps you from killing yourself every time, the part of you that hates everything else. Sad but true!"
As he speaks, he becomes more animated, and conversely, I feel weaker. He seems to be drawing the strength right out of me, feeding his own frail frame, appearing taller, more imposing with each word.
"You've been digging yourself into this hole for a long time, my man. I'm just here to liven up the atmosphere!", so saying, he grabs me by the neck, and I'm dragged towards the lip of what I now see is a deep chasm, powerless to resist.
"You're gonna fall for a loooong time, boy. Are you sure you want to do this? The risks are high in this game, and the dice are loaded aaaall the way down!"
I've always been scared of heights. Enjoying my fear, he stands over me, and recites from another page..
"The heights by mediocre men reached and kept, were not attained by sudden flight, but they, whilst their companions slept, soiled their underpants in their fright! Aahahahaha! Derivative, to be sure, but how apt! A visionary sir, truly!"
And just then, I realize what's happening here. If he is me, then I am him. And this is all just a sick fucking game in my head. But there's only one way to find out.
As he's about to speak again, I interrupt loudly from the floor, "Oi! That's MY diary you're reading from, and I've had high times as well as low. Turn the page, fucker. I'm not all about the gloom and doom. There's self-absorbed misery, and there's flashes of light and brightness." He's visibly taken aback by this sudden change in my demeanor, and I take advantage of his hesitation.
"You might be one aspect of me, but I have more than just one face. I wear several masks, and you're only my least favorite. You think you're in control of the situation, but you've got it all upside down. You think you can scare me by dangling me over this precipice, this black hole in my psyche that I've been running away from? I'm willing to bet that you're more afraid of this than I am." Saying this, I leap off the floor towards him, and grabbing him in a strange, awkward hug, I push us both over the edge and into the darkness.
"Oh look, here's a fun excerpt!"
He reads an excerpt from my diary to me, one of my low points, about how I feel I'm slowly making my way through every person on the planet, alienating each one, and this makes me sad, because there are a lot of people, and its going to take me a long time to isolate myself from each one, personally.
"A tad dramatic, wouldn't you say? Oh wait, you DID say!", followed by a burst of maniacal laughter.
I shift my weight around, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. There is no visible source of light, and yet I'm able to 'see' him/me.
"Why do you look like me? Who are you?", I ask again.
"Isn't it obvious? I am the God of HELLFIRE, and I bring you.. naah, just kidding. I AM you. Well, a part of you anyway. I'm the one who cautions you against risk, the little voice in your head that keeps you from killing yourself every time, the part of you that hates everything else. Sad but true!"
As he speaks, he becomes more animated, and conversely, I feel weaker. He seems to be drawing the strength right out of me, feeding his own frail frame, appearing taller, more imposing with each word.
"You've been digging yourself into this hole for a long time, my man. I'm just here to liven up the atmosphere!", so saying, he grabs me by the neck, and I'm dragged towards the lip of what I now see is a deep chasm, powerless to resist.
"You're gonna fall for a loooong time, boy. Are you sure you want to do this? The risks are high in this game, and the dice are loaded aaaall the way down!"
I've always been scared of heights. Enjoying my fear, he stands over me, and recites from another page..
"The heights by mediocre men reached and kept, were not attained by sudden flight, but they, whilst their companions slept, soiled their underpants in their fright! Aahahahaha! Derivative, to be sure, but how apt! A visionary sir, truly!"
And just then, I realize what's happening here. If he is me, then I am him. And this is all just a sick fucking game in my head. But there's only one way to find out.
As he's about to speak again, I interrupt loudly from the floor, "Oi! That's MY diary you're reading from, and I've had high times as well as low. Turn the page, fucker. I'm not all about the gloom and doom. There's self-absorbed misery, and there's flashes of light and brightness." He's visibly taken aback by this sudden change in my demeanor, and I take advantage of his hesitation.
"You might be one aspect of me, but I have more than just one face. I wear several masks, and you're only my least favorite. You think you're in control of the situation, but you've got it all upside down. You think you can scare me by dangling me over this precipice, this black hole in my psyche that I've been running away from? I'm willing to bet that you're more afraid of this than I am." Saying this, I leap off the floor towards him, and grabbing him in a strange, awkward hug, I push us both over the edge and into the darkness.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Too Long for Facebook
It's Sunday evening. I have just awakened from a day-long dream. As I sit up on the couch, shaking the stardust from my hair, I have the strange, unsettling sensation that somewhere, I'm still asleep and dreaming. And then I'm looking out my window watching the moon rise. And then I realize I can hear Iron and Wine's version of Such Great Heights playing somewhere off-camera. And then I think I'm going to cry. But then I wake up. And everything is exactly the same.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
But for Today, I'm Just Happy (That You're Not Here to See Me)
Ever get that feeling, like your life is being written by a mad, drunken, crotchety old poet
who, ranting against the world, prophesies your misfortunes with unnerving accuracy?
Me neither.
Yesterday
I went out
into the sun:
a rare thing for me;
long accustomed
to dimly lit
rooms
with peeling wallpaper
and
overflowing trashcans.
Passing by an old saloon,
a bum asked me for change
I gave him my last cigarette, instead
He looked at me with watery eyes
and muttered "fuck you"
tossing it back at me
disgusted, insulted
his wrinkled face
and crazy eyes
retreating now into the purple haze of memory.
smoking
coughing
i walk around town late at night
the policemen know me
by now
and ignore my carcass
while
the prostitutes on the corner
wait
for sunrise
tapping nails,
(chipped)
on lampposts,
(phallic)
scratching at moles on stretch-marked thighs
red lipstick smiles
smeared
across the face of night
back home, last friday,
a man he asked me
when cottage cheese
tasted better,
before
or
after,
the coming of Christ.
It depends
(i said)
on where your shadow falls
at sunset on a rainy day
but then again
one can never be sure
about these things
especially
if you've been drinking
the vinegary gray wine of despair
as long as i have.
the world went crazy
without me
and so i stayed sane
if only just to spite you
Or maybe
I'm
still lie-ing
in a meadow
by a river somewhere
watching
your reflection
as it slowly waxes
and sometimes wanes
within me.
before you go,
let me just say
how i always loved
the emptiness
inside you..
Tomorrow morning
I promise,
i'll bring you flowers
instead of
bad poetry.
who, ranting against the world, prophesies your misfortunes with unnerving accuracy?
Me neither.
Yesterday
I went out
into the sun:
a rare thing for me;
long accustomed
to dimly lit
rooms
with peeling wallpaper
and
overflowing trashcans.
Passing by an old saloon,
a bum asked me for change
I gave him my last cigarette, instead
He looked at me with watery eyes
and muttered "fuck you"
tossing it back at me
disgusted, insulted
his wrinkled face
and crazy eyes
retreating now into the purple haze of memory.
smoking
coughing
i walk around town late at night
the policemen know me
by now
and ignore my carcass
while
the prostitutes on the corner
wait
for sunrise
tapping nails,
(chipped)
on lampposts,
(phallic)
scratching at moles on stretch-marked thighs
red lipstick smiles
smeared
across the face of night
back home, last friday,
a man he asked me
when cottage cheese
tasted better,
before
or
after,
the coming of Christ.
It depends
(i said)
on where your shadow falls
at sunset on a rainy day
but then again
one can never be sure
about these things
especially
if you've been drinking
the vinegary gray wine of despair
as long as i have.
the world went crazy
without me
and so i stayed sane
if only just to spite you
Or maybe
I'm
still lie-ing
in a meadow
by a river somewhere
watching
your reflection
as it slowly waxes
and sometimes wanes
within me.
before you go,
let me just say
how i always loved
the emptiness
inside you..
Tomorrow morning
I promise,
i'll bring you flowers
instead of
bad poetry.
Monday, March 8, 2010
an homage to Das Uberwoman
Let me start this off by being very clear. I don't celebrate women's day. Simply because the female of the species deserves more than just one day of being given the respect she rightfully deserves.
Women are an embodiment of the female aspect of Creation, and should be treated as such, as equals in all human affairs. Men and women complement each other's qualities and capabilities, and are merely two halves of the same whole, like yin and yang, existing in a state of co-related, mutually dependent, and dynamic harmony.
Unfortunately, in recent memory, the feminine principle has been suppressed by religions obsessed with masculinity, devolved versions of originally monotheistic religions that recognized the existence of the One in the Many. We must return to basic principles, learning from the past. Just as the mystical traditions speak of Adam and Eve, the primal male and female pair, there exist too the ultimal pair, the ones that epitomise our divinity. The Super-Man and..
The SuperWoman
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
What will the superwoman be, of whom we sing -
She who is coming over the dim border
Of Far To-morrow, after earth’s disorder
Is tidied up by Time? What will she bring
To make life better on tempestuous earth?
How will her worth
Be greater than her forbears? What new power
Within her being will burst into flower?
She will bring beauty, not the transient dower
Of adolescence which departs with youth -
But beauty based on knowledge of the truth
Of its eternal message and the source
Of all its potent force.
Her outer being by the inner thought
Shall into lasting loveliness be wrought.
She will bring virtue; but it will not be
The pale, white blossom of cold chastity
Which hides a barren heart. She will be human -
Not saint or angel, but the superwoman -
Mother and mate and friend of superman.
She will bring strength to aid the larger Plan,
Wisdom and strength and sweetness all combined,
Drawn from the Cosmic Mind -
Wisdom to act, strength to attain,
And sweetness that finds growth in joy or pain.
She will bring that large virtue, self-control,
And cherish it as her supremest treasure.
Not at the call of sense or for man’s pleasure
Will she invite from space an embryo soul,
To live on earth again in mortal fashion,
Unless love stirs her with divinest passion.
To motherhood she will bring common sense -
That most uncommon virtue. She will give
Love that is more than she-wolf violence
(Which slaughters others that its own may live).
Love that will help each little tendril mind
To grow and climb;
Love that will know the lordliest use of Time
In training human egos to be kind.
She will be formed to guide, but not to lead -
Leaders are ever lonely - and her sphere
Will be that of the comrade and the mate,
Loved, loving, and with insight fine and clear,
Which casts its searchlight on the course of fate,
And to the leaders says, ‘Proceed’ or ‘Wait.’
And best of all, she will bring holy faith
To penetrate the shadowy world of death,
And show the road beyond it, bright and broad,
That leads straight up to God.
... and all will be One again. Ah bugger it, a very happy women's day to you all. Peace, Love and Respect! :)
Women are an embodiment of the female aspect of Creation, and should be treated as such, as equals in all human affairs. Men and women complement each other's qualities and capabilities, and are merely two halves of the same whole, like yin and yang, existing in a state of co-related, mutually dependent, and dynamic harmony.
Unfortunately, in recent memory, the feminine principle has been suppressed by religions obsessed with masculinity, devolved versions of originally monotheistic religions that recognized the existence of the One in the Many. We must return to basic principles, learning from the past. Just as the mystical traditions speak of Adam and Eve, the primal male and female pair, there exist too the ultimal pair, the ones that epitomise our divinity. The Super-Man and..
The SuperWoman
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
What will the superwoman be, of whom we sing -
She who is coming over the dim border
Of Far To-morrow, after earth’s disorder
Is tidied up by Time? What will she bring
To make life better on tempestuous earth?
How will her worth
Be greater than her forbears? What new power
Within her being will burst into flower?
She will bring beauty, not the transient dower
Of adolescence which departs with youth -
But beauty based on knowledge of the truth
Of its eternal message and the source
Of all its potent force.
Her outer being by the inner thought
Shall into lasting loveliness be wrought.
She will bring virtue; but it will not be
The pale, white blossom of cold chastity
Which hides a barren heart. She will be human -
Not saint or angel, but the superwoman -
Mother and mate and friend of superman.
She will bring strength to aid the larger Plan,
Wisdom and strength and sweetness all combined,
Drawn from the Cosmic Mind -
Wisdom to act, strength to attain,
And sweetness that finds growth in joy or pain.
She will bring that large virtue, self-control,
And cherish it as her supremest treasure.
Not at the call of sense or for man’s pleasure
Will she invite from space an embryo soul,
To live on earth again in mortal fashion,
Unless love stirs her with divinest passion.
To motherhood she will bring common sense -
That most uncommon virtue. She will give
Love that is more than she-wolf violence
(Which slaughters others that its own may live).
Love that will help each little tendril mind
To grow and climb;
Love that will know the lordliest use of Time
In training human egos to be kind.
She will be formed to guide, but not to lead -
Leaders are ever lonely - and her sphere
Will be that of the comrade and the mate,
Loved, loving, and with insight fine and clear,
Which casts its searchlight on the course of fate,
And to the leaders says, ‘Proceed’ or ‘Wait.’
And best of all, she will bring holy faith
To penetrate the shadowy world of death,
And show the road beyond it, bright and broad,
That leads straight up to God.
... and all will be One again. Ah bugger it, a very happy women's day to you all. Peace, Love and Respect! :)
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
the heart of the lotus is one
"Ye ask, who are those that draw us to the kingdom, if the kingdom is in Heaven? ...the fowls of the air, and all beasts that are under the earth or upon the earth, and the fishes of the sea, these are they which draw you, and the kingdom of Heaven is within you; and whoever shall know himself shall find it. Strive, therefore, to know yourselves, and ye shall be aware that ye are the sons of the almighty Father; and ye shall know that ye are in the city of God, and ye are the city."
We are living in a time when it is possible for us to take control of our destiny as a species. The transition from child to adult, from novice to initiate, from human to superhuman, does not occur by itself. It requires dedication, the conscious exercise of will, and a rigorous process of constant self-improvement through self-examination. Exposing oneself to the scrutiny of the mind's eye is not easy, but it is necessary if one wishes to refine one's consciousness.
As humans, we are all living in a state of violence. The primal urge for violence finds expression in anger, in hate, in resentment and suspicion of one's fellow beings and is satiated only when it returns, magnified manifold, to its originator, in its pure form, as violence. The instinct for self-preservation is a throwback to an antediluvian period in our development. It is one of the many outmoded 'instincts' holding us back from achieving our full potential. The Golden Rule, in its many forms, teaches us the secret of peaceful co-existence- empathy. Only when we reconcile ourselves with the world, and the people around us, can we truly be happy. The instinct for self-preservation has no basis if we eliminate the concept of 'self' from our lexicon. Us and them; You and I; are both one and the same. Love thy neighbour as you would love thyself. We are all made from the same dust, breathe the same air, and are all destined to return to the same Source.
'God' is a fountain that flows back into itself. The concept of eternal return is crucial to this understanding. Nothing ends that does not have a beginning, and nothing begins that does not have an ending. All is governed by the law of cause and effect. All causes bear the seeds of their effects, and all effects bear the mark of the cause that set them into motion. The final nullity is also the birthing ground of infinity. The space between is where one who seeks can hope to find a trace of our divinity.
The urge to communicate, to make our thoughts apparent, is what drives us. We are unique, as a species, in the sense that we are the only ones to have codified a system of communication, a method by which we can relate to our fellow beings. We have created the glorious mystery of language, and have become captivated by it. Enchanted by the words we speak, we lose sight of the meaning those words convey, and a crucial element is thus lost in translation. The pointing finger is not the moon. There are other, more subtle means of communication available to us, if only we choose to perceive them.
The world is not as it seems. All that we perceive is not all that is. There is an unseen dimension to the world, one that cannot be made apparent by relying on our five senses alone. But when all our senses are in harmony, and when we learn not to rely on one at the expense of the others, we are able to access a 'sixth sense', as it were, one that is composed of all five senses feeding into the mind together, simultaneously. This is the state of nirvana alluded to by the ancients, and accessible to a Buddha. To perceive the world in such a manner is to see the All as it really is, not in part, but in whole. And with this opening of the third eye, the last remaining door of perception is thrown open, and the Mind-of-the-One is allowed to become one with the Mind-of-the-Many. Savitri, Gayatri and Saraswati; Srishti, Stithi, and Vinash; the balance represented by Yin and Yang, between Being and Not-Being, and the creative chaos represented by the Spirit, which, in turn, arises from the tension between any two opposing values; are all reconciled within the Logos.
But don't just take my word for it. Look within and without, and see for yourself :)
"Let not him who seeks... cease until he finds, and when he finds he shall be astonished; astonished he shall reach the kingdom, and having reached the kingdom he shall rest."
We are living in a time when it is possible for us to take control of our destiny as a species. The transition from child to adult, from novice to initiate, from human to superhuman, does not occur by itself. It requires dedication, the conscious exercise of will, and a rigorous process of constant self-improvement through self-examination. Exposing oneself to the scrutiny of the mind's eye is not easy, but it is necessary if one wishes to refine one's consciousness.
'AUM'- so chanted, in parable, the ancient Indian Seers-
Is the three-fold basic vibration, the musical sound
'To Be', Being, and Ceasing-from-being.
Unfolding as a lovely flower, eight-petalled,
An octave of consequential notes:
Seven the grades, the inter-locking ratios,
The fellowship linking the Many in the One
With the bond of brotherhood, of a common Father as sons.
Is the three-fold basic vibration, the musical sound
'To Be', Being, and Ceasing-from-being.
Unfolding as a lovely flower, eight-petalled,
An octave of consequential notes:
Seven the grades, the inter-locking ratios,
The fellowship linking the Many in the One
With the bond of brotherhood, of a common Father as sons.
As humans, we are all living in a state of violence. The primal urge for violence finds expression in anger, in hate, in resentment and suspicion of one's fellow beings and is satiated only when it returns, magnified manifold, to its originator, in its pure form, as violence. The instinct for self-preservation is a throwback to an antediluvian period in our development. It is one of the many outmoded 'instincts' holding us back from achieving our full potential. The Golden Rule, in its many forms, teaches us the secret of peaceful co-existence- empathy. Only when we reconcile ourselves with the world, and the people around us, can we truly be happy. The instinct for self-preservation has no basis if we eliminate the concept of 'self' from our lexicon. Us and them; You and I; are both one and the same. Love thy neighbour as you would love thyself. We are all made from the same dust, breathe the same air, and are all destined to return to the same Source.
'A', they said, as they chanted solemnly,
Is the sound of building up,
'M', they said, is the sound of breaking down,
And 'U' is the bridging sound of serialization
Sustaining, extending, holding in balance
The ebb and the flow of Being's course
-The 'Yang' and the 'Yin', the Chinese poets called it-
The relation between that we know as Time,
As Space, or as Consciousness,
Enabling the 'I' to conceive a 'Thou'.
Is the sound of building up,
'M', they said, is the sound of breaking down,
And 'U' is the bridging sound of serialization
Sustaining, extending, holding in balance
The ebb and the flow of Being's course
-The 'Yang' and the 'Yin', the Chinese poets called it-
The relation between that we know as Time,
As Space, or as Consciousness,
Enabling the 'I' to conceive a 'Thou'.
'God' is a fountain that flows back into itself. The concept of eternal return is crucial to this understanding. Nothing ends that does not have a beginning, and nothing begins that does not have an ending. All is governed by the law of cause and effect. All causes bear the seeds of their effects, and all effects bear the mark of the cause that set them into motion. The final nullity is also the birthing ground of infinity. The space between is where one who seeks can hope to find a trace of our divinity.
Gayatri, the Indian sages called this measure,
The 'bird' Gayatri, swift hawk, flight of the Eagle to the Sun,
Bearer of the Plant of continued life
From generation to generation, spanning Time.
Said they, who hummed this mantra Sound,
Seeking thus to demonstrate
The Wheel of the law of progression:
Within the Cause lies the Effect,
Within the 'I' the seed of 'Thou',
Within that inconceivable, the limitless Eternal,
Lies Time, Space, what is, and what is not,
The germ of generation.
The 'bird' Gayatri, swift hawk, flight of the Eagle to the Sun,
Bearer of the Plant of continued life
From generation to generation, spanning Time.
Said they, who hummed this mantra Sound,
Seeking thus to demonstrate
The Wheel of the law of progression:
Within the Cause lies the Effect,
Within the 'I' the seed of 'Thou',
Within that inconceivable, the limitless Eternal,
Lies Time, Space, what is, and what is not,
The germ of generation.
The urge to communicate, to make our thoughts apparent, is what drives us. We are unique, as a species, in the sense that we are the only ones to have codified a system of communication, a method by which we can relate to our fellow beings. We have created the glorious mystery of language, and have become captivated by it. Enchanted by the words we speak, we lose sight of the meaning those words convey, and a crucial element is thus lost in translation. The pointing finger is not the moon. There are other, more subtle means of communication available to us, if only we choose to perceive them.
The 'Heart' that 'speaks', the Egyptian Seers called it-
That utters the 'Word' we know as 'Creation'.
'Thoth', they named it, Tongue and Messenger,
Executive of the Power TO BE.
That utters the 'Word' we know as 'Creation'.
'Thoth', they named it, Tongue and Messenger,
Executive of the Power TO BE.
The world is not as it seems. All that we perceive is not all that is. There is an unseen dimension to the world, one that cannot be made apparent by relying on our five senses alone. But when all our senses are in harmony, and when we learn not to rely on one at the expense of the others, we are able to access a 'sixth sense', as it were, one that is composed of all five senses feeding into the mind together, simultaneously. This is the state of nirvana alluded to by the ancients, and accessible to a Buddha. To perceive the world in such a manner is to see the All as it really is, not in part, but in whole. And with this opening of the third eye, the last remaining door of perception is thrown open, and the Mind-of-the-One is allowed to become one with the Mind-of-the-Many. Savitri, Gayatri and Saraswati; Srishti, Stithi, and Vinash; the balance represented by Yin and Yang, between Being and Not-Being, and the creative chaos represented by the Spirit, which, in turn, arises from the tension between any two opposing values; are all reconciled within the Logos.
Eight-petalled Lotus, City of the Eight,
Octave of potentiality, all things containing,
Maintaining, and at the end resuming:
Lovely Harmonia's musical manifestation,
Source and Sum of Number,
Father and Mother of Doing, Being, and Knowing-
Within thy cup, O Flower, those Seers saw enshrined
The Golden Seed of Being's cycle:
Verily, they sang, the Heart of this Lotus is ONE.
Octave of potentiality, all things containing,
Maintaining, and at the end resuming:
Lovely Harmonia's musical manifestation,
Source and Sum of Number,
Father and Mother of Doing, Being, and Knowing-
Within thy cup, O Flower, those Seers saw enshrined
The Golden Seed of Being's cycle:
Verily, they sang, the Heart of this Lotus is ONE.
But don't just take my word for it. Look within and without, and see for yourself :)
"Let not him who seeks... cease until he finds, and when he finds he shall be astonished; astonished he shall reach the kingdom, and having reached the kingdom he shall rest."
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Dreaming at the wall of mystery
Hm. Haven't posted on the blog in a while. Well, here's another exciting segment of Rev. Joshi's Travelling Salvation Show; Storytime!
The Wall of Mystery [as retold by Anne Twitty; Parabola 1986]
Far in the East there was once a wall of mystery. Few people approached it. Occasionally, however, someone more daring than the rest made his way to the wall and began to climb. It was not easy to climb to the top of the wall, but some persevered. Those who reached the top of the wall and looked over to the other side were seen to smile; then they slipped over the wall and were never seen again.
After a while, the people of that country learned to recognize the signs that told them someone was about to approach the wall. That person's eyes would begin to stare through and beyond his surroundings. He grew forgetful, and would often fail to answer questions put to him, seeming absorbed in other questions, the nature of which was obscure to those around him.
Though the people did not want to risk climbing the wall themselves, they very much wanted to know what lay on the other side of it. The next time they noticed someone with staring eyes and the look of inner vision, they brought chains and waited beside the wall. As the young man began to climb, they seized his feet and fastened chains to them. Still, he climbed upward, until at last he reached the top of the wall.
He looked over. He smiled, just as the others had, a smile of rapture. The men at the foot of the wall, overcome with curiosity, pulled on the chains, and pulled him back. Eagerly, they began to question him. What was it like on the other side? Why had he smiled? What had he seen? But none of their questions were ever answered. By the time the young man's feet touched the ground, he had lost the power of speech.
~end sermon~
Obligatory, obfuscated hidden link here.
The Wall of Mystery [as retold by Anne Twitty; Parabola 1986]
Far in the East there was once a wall of mystery. Few people approached it. Occasionally, however, someone more daring than the rest made his way to the wall and began to climb. It was not easy to climb to the top of the wall, but some persevered. Those who reached the top of the wall and looked over to the other side were seen to smile; then they slipped over the wall and were never seen again.
After a while, the people of that country learned to recognize the signs that told them someone was about to approach the wall. That person's eyes would begin to stare through and beyond his surroundings. He grew forgetful, and would often fail to answer questions put to him, seeming absorbed in other questions, the nature of which was obscure to those around him.
Though the people did not want to risk climbing the wall themselves, they very much wanted to know what lay on the other side of it. The next time they noticed someone with staring eyes and the look of inner vision, they brought chains and waited beside the wall. As the young man began to climb, they seized his feet and fastened chains to them. Still, he climbed upward, until at last he reached the top of the wall.
He looked over. He smiled, just as the others had, a smile of rapture. The men at the foot of the wall, overcome with curiosity, pulled on the chains, and pulled him back. Eagerly, they began to question him. What was it like on the other side? Why had he smiled? What had he seen? But none of their questions were ever answered. By the time the young man's feet touched the ground, he had lost the power of speech.
~end sermon~
Obligatory, obfuscated hidden link here.
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