Absorbed in deep contemplation, down beyond the chatter of life, I find that space where silence reigns and darkness turns to light. Where peace moves in, on golden threads, caressing my numinous heart. The current of multi-dimensions rushes through, dancing eternity’s infinite beat.
“We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence.”
“Here is the true meaning and value of compassion and nonviolence, when it helps us to see the enemy’s point of view, to hear his questions, to know his assessment of ourselves. For from his view we may indeed see the basic weaknesses of our own condition, and if we are mature, we may learn and grow and profit from the wisdom of the brothers who are called the opposition.”
As we watch our nation’s frustration turn on itself we must realize that ignorance exists at every level of participation. There are those whose convictions are sincere and will express that sincerity through resisting the ugly that festers in our ranks. There are those whose convictions are cancerous and will express that cancer through vile means, climbing over the body of justice to facilitate ignominious behavior, with no regard for the other. For the lover of truth, this moment in our tortured history will stain the pages of history forever, and tears will supplant the righteous call that should be this moment-in-motion.
In a environment of unrecognizable babble we are dumbing down our mind machine to try and understand the chatter that flies inside the winds of ridiculousness. Without the Twitter-verse we would be prone to more intelligent stuff, and those who use the platform to convey wily thoughts would be empty and alone, with opinions that spin inside their brains without exiting. What a wonderful world that would be.
I find that an exercise in Dylan-speak is helpful at this time. Give your mind something to wrap itself around other than the utter-fluff. Meditate on this song for a while and see if your brain doesn’t send kisses down your spine. It’s alright ma, we’re only human.
“Darkness at the break of noon Shadows even the silver spoon The handmade blade, the child’s balloon Eclipses both the sun and moon To understand you know too soon There is no sense in trying
Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn Suicide remarks are torn From the fool’s gold mouthpiece The hollow horn plays wasted words Proves to warn that he not busy being born Is busy dying
Temptation’s page flies out the door You follow, find yourself at war Watch waterfalls of pity roar You feel to moan but unlike before You discover that you’d just be One more person crying
So don’t fear if you hear A foreign sound to your ear It’s alright, Ma, I’m only sighing
As some warn victory, some downfall Private reasons great or small Can be seen in the eyes of those that call To make all that should be killed to crawl While others say don’t hate nothing at all Except hatred
Disillusioned words like bullets bark As human gods aim for their mark Made everything from toy guns that spark To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark It’s easy to see without looking too far That not much is really sacred
While preachers preach of evil fates Teachers teach that knowledge waits Can lead to hundred-dollar plates Goodness hides behind its gates But even the president of the United States Sometimes must have to stand naked
An’ though the rules of the road have been lodged It’s only people’s games that you got to dodge And it’s alright, Ma, I can make it
Advertising signs that con you Into thinking you’re the one That can do what’s never been done That can win what’s never been won Meantime life outside goes on All around you
You lose yourself, you reappear You suddenly find you got nothing to fear Alone you stand with nobody near When a trembling distant voice, unclear Startles your sleeping ears to hear That somebody thinks they really found you
A question in your nerves is lit Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy Insure you not to quit To keep it in your mind and not fergit That it is not he or she or them or it That you belong to
Although the masters make the rules For the wise men and the fools I got nothing, Ma, to live up to
For them that must obey authority That they do not respect in any degree Who despise their jobs, their destinies Speak jealously of them that are free Do what they do just to be nothing more than something they invest in
While some on principles baptized To strict party platform ties Social clubs in drag disguise Outsiders they can freely criticize Tell nothing except who to idolize And then say God bless him
While one who sings with his tongue on fire Gargles in the rat race choir Bent out of shape from society’s pliers Cares not to come up any higher But rather get you down in the hole that he’s in
But I mean no harm nor put fault On anyone that lives in a vault But it’s alright, Ma, if I can’t please him
Old lady judges watch people in pairs Limited in sex, they dare To push fake morals, insult and stare While money doesn’t talk, it swears Obscenity, who really cares Propaganda, all is phony
While them that defend what they cannot see With a killer’s pride, security It blows the minds most bitterly For them that think death’s honesty Won’t fall upon them naturally Life sometimes must get lonely
My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards False gods, I scuff At pettiness which plays so rough Walk upside-down inside handcuffs Kick my legs to crash it off Say okay, I have had enough What else can you show me
And if my thought-dreams could be seen They’d probably put my head in a guillotine But it’s alright, Ma, it’s life, and life only”
I have been meditating since 1971, originally under the guidance and presence of an Indian guru, and then, after finding my own inner teacher, continuing the magic of meditation on a daily basis. At some point I realized that my meditations took root at any time or any place, without ceremony and without intention. It just rose through my aspiration, presenting itself through inspired moments that clearly touched my soul.
Some time ago I started to express the results of my deep dives into space, where chaos meets simplicity and is eternally embraced. I hope for future conversations into this extraordinary world.
“He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God.” —Aeschylus
It seems that time repeats moments in ways that shake the fiber of our deeper selves and that shake is suppose to awaken us to the ignorance long stored in the cells of our own humanity. We our conscious, yes, but not awake. We are intelligent, yes, but not comprehending. We are powerful, yes, but not transcending.
In 2010 I posted this piece as we were moving out of darkness. Drawn on by fear and ignorance and power we slopped through the weeds with reckless abandon. Here we are again, under the misconception of skewed righteousness. Will we never learn?!!!
Effulgent Light Through The Darkness.
Over the last two years we have been stunned out of the illusion of “living large” into the great abyss of uncertainty. We are on an endless decent into the darkness with fear as our partner. We can see no way out of this loss of worth that we hold so dear to our existence. We sat in a bubble of illusion for so long that the burst has sprung us into a state of survival beyond the very borders of the physical state. Our mental and emotional senses have reached the breaking point. Our sanity is at stake and there is no remedy in this fragile moment.
Yet, this is the way of the warrior. The mystery of the beyond, the darkness at the edge of the forest. And as we step forth, with no security beneath our feet, we feel our very being lose its tenseness in the light of truth that lies ahead. Within our heart of hearts lies the real Self that has accompanied us on this journey into the realm of illusion. It is not only our best friend, it is our one true being. There is no greater essence than this that rides within us. For the rider has surrendered to this journey for the thrill of it and now has decided to lead us home. We must listen closely to the instructions for we have lost the way ourselves and forgotten that the rider has been with us all along.
The following excerpt from the new book of Letters is our instruction back to our home. As you read it let it pour through your mind. Allow it to fill the sensing area of your heart. It will pierce through to the Self sitting in wait and awaken you. This is the mighty call. Let us walk into the New Year with confidence because the rider has taken charge and the destination is Delight.
In duality, separation is a fact of life. It exists. But within itself—that is, within separation, lies the portal to oneness, formlessness, and non-existence. Our very existence contains, within itself, non-existence. It is the same as saying all creation is founded upon the Void. In duality, everything contains and shares existence with its opposite! Each thing contains a portal into its opposite. Thus, within your own duality lies the portal to oneness. Your ego is constantly en guard against that portal opening. It fearfully senses the underlying presence of non-existence. It works tirelessly to distract you from realizing this presence.
You were indeed working blindly in that little adventure just now. But you caught on rather quickly. That’s encouraging. You sensed the reality, without having to think about it. That is what we are asking all of you to do in your lives over the coming few years: Feel the reality below the illusion; feel the formless below the form and the oneness below the many-ness. I’m saying this quickly and in passing here. But I will elucidate each aspect of it in the coming letters. Take this statement as an overview of our objective. As our group voice declared, oneness is the vehicle we will ride through the passage of the Great Storm.
“And just what does that mean? It sounds so abstract and metaphorical for me. How do we ‘ride oneness’ like a vehicle?” (more…)
The following was sent to me from Robert, yesterday, 04.22.20:
The article from the Atlantic, attached in the link below, puts words to the feelings many of us have had for some years; it is also an example of outstanding reporting and insight by staff writer, George Packer. His writing describes a situation of life and death that we’re all deeply involved in—both personally and culturally. As much as we may not survive this pandemic—as individuals—our nation itself may not survive—as the republican democracy we have known and loved.