MLK Photo

 

“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”

Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: Bob DylanIt’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)

lyrics © Audiam, Inc





 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

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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…)

Now that you’ve got time, more than 5 minutes of time,

Now that you’ve got time, more than a day to play,

Now that you’ve got time, in an ever timeless state,

Now that you’ve got time, in an ever weightless state.

Now that you’ve got time, there’s only this not that,

Now that you’ve got time, now that you’ve got time,

Let the trickle of noise subside to blissful silence,

Let the mind clear its calendar till who knows when,

Now that you’ve got time, become the eternal flow,

Now that you’ve got time, become the transcendent show.

Wallace Roney (1000px)

Wallace Roney died on March 31, 2020, from complications arising from Covid-19

 

When music flows through the body and reaches the voice and explodes with an emotion of satisfaction something must be electric.

When music flows through the mind and reaches the voice and explodes with an emotion of satisfaction something must be profound.

When music flows from the deep world of creativity and reaches the voice and explodes with an emotion of satisfaction something must be transcendent.

 

Lorde for Letters Post(1000px)

 

 

O beautiful for spacious skies,

For amber waves of grain,

For purple mountain majesties

Above the fruited plain!

America! America!

God shed His grace on thee,

And crown thy good with brotherhood

From sea to shining sea!

 

Dec. of Ind with Type(1200px)

It’s not about the me, it’s about the we. 

 

 

 

Lord, save us from the Twitter feed,
Save us from its dysfunction.
Save us from the Twitter feed,
Give intelligence renewed production.
Make those silly comments fade,
Like soot into the sea.
Make smart remarks the healing ground,
From idiocy make us free.
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.

(more…)

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In my waking breath, I start and start again this day’s long pace.

I have a choice to walk it right or throw the day to waste?

Can stay captive to the mind-noise that yesterday I fought,

or carry forth the truth set in unencumbered thought.

 

I can busy [me,] my self, in the ego-sea of [me,]

or journey to a world of those around who’ve been set free.

Can nod to no importance, ignore beauty through my eyes,

or linger in the peacefulness, seeing splendor beyond the skies.

 

If my heart is beyond shallow I won’t hear the crying sound,

I’m destined to the sadness of a horrid day gone down,

and patterns that have made Me [me,]

repeating, reseeding, a lost strategy.

 

This thing we’re all built on, truth and love and willing,

it’s time to set a new stride and keep the dark from killing.

It’s time to offer Gratitude and Loving arms embrace,

it’s time to see our lives are just a wasteland ‘cept for Grace.